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The plowman standing in amaze.
He did upon King William gaze;
For quaking could not hold a limb,
For fear he had offended him.
The King beheld his pannic fear,
And said, My friend, be of good cheer;
Thy answers have so pleased me,
That sure no hurt shall come on thee.
But tell me, Didst thou ever fight
Thy foes in shining armour bright?
Yea, seven years and something more,
Under the mighty Emperor:
Before the wall of Bradow,
Have seen many brave soldiers die;
But yet at last we storm'd the town,
Gain’d triumph o'er the Romish crown.
The wars once more I intend to see,
If it were not for my family:
But who of them shall take a care,
When I'm abroad, and from them far?
King William instantly reply'd,
For them, old soldier, I'll provide.
If freely to the wars thou'st go,
Here's a commission I'll bestow,
And clothe thee in armour so bright,
If thou against my foes will fight,
I'll make of thee a Captain now!
O come, and leave the weary plow.
