Song Page - Lyrify.me

Lyrify.me

Oriente by Henry fiol Lyrics

Genre: pop | Year: 1980

Unknown
Miscellaneous
King Henry Fifths Conquest Of France
King Henry Fifth's Conquest of France

A king was sitting on his throne
And on his throne was sitting he;
He bethought himself of a tribute due
Been due in France so many years

Then he called up his little page
His littIe page then called he;
Saying, "You must go to the king of France
And demand that tribute due to me."

Away, away went that little page
Away, away and away went he
Until he came to the king of France
Then he fell down on his bended knee

"My master's great as well as you
My master's great as well as you;
He demands that tribute, tribute due
Or in French land you will him see."
"Your master's young, of tender age
Nor fit to come to my degree;
To him I send five tennis balls
That in French land he dare not be."

Away, away went that little page
Away, away and away went he
Until he came to his master dear
Then he fell down on his bended knee

"What news, what news, my little page
What news, what news do you bring to me?"
"Such news, such news, my master dear
The king and you will not agree."

"He says you're young, of tender age
Not fit to come to his degree;
To you he sends five tennis balls
That in French land you dare not be."

The king he numbered up his men
One by two and two by three
Until he got thirty thousand men
A noble jolly bold company

"No married men, no widow's son
No married men can follow me;
No married men, no widow's son
A widow's son can't follow me."
Now he's marched off to the King of France
With drums and trumpets so merrily
And the first that spoke was the King of France
Saying, "Yonder comes proud King Henry"

The first broadside those Frenchmen gave
They slew our men so bitterly;
And the next broadside our English gave
They killed five thousand and thirty-three

And the next that spoke was the King of France
Saying: "Lord, have mercy on my men and me."

"Now if you'll march back from whence you came
With drums and trumpets so merrily
The finest flower in all French land
Five tons of gold shall be your fee."

Now he's marched back from whence he came
With drums and trumpets so merrily
W'ith the finest flower in all French land
Five tons of gold now is his fee

From New Green Mountain Songster, Flanders et al
Child #164
@England @war @royalty
Filename[ HENRYV
Play.exe HENRYV
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===