| When princes meet
|
| The poor little men must tremble
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| In judgment seat
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| They speak of their wars
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| While great armies assemble
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| Their armor shines
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| To shame the sun
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| They move like gods
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| They do resemble
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| All bow their necks
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| To iron feet when princes meet
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| When castles rise
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| The poor little men must build them
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| To charm the skies
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| They throw up the turrets
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| Where the great lords will them
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| They dig the dungeons
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| From the earth
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| And their brothers
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| Wives and children fill them
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| All those below cast down
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| Their eyes when castles rise
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| God save the king
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| For he grants us leave to serve him
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| His praises sing
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| And grant that we may deserve him
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| Who counts the cost?
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| The cattle and men to be lost?
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| 'Tis no small thing to serve a king
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| When kings make war
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| The poor little men must fight them
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| They must do more
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| They hold out their necks
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| For great lord’s swords to bite them
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| The sons of the lords cleave
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| Through their ranks
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| In the hopes some warrior king
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| Might knight them
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| It’s what the poor little men are for
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| When kings make war
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| Hide your cattle in the woods, Francois
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| The lord is looking your way
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| Hide your women and your goods, Francois
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| They’re coming around to make you pay
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| Hide if you can, poor little man
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| Think of a prayer to say
|
| Hide if you can, poor little man
|
| Think of a prayer to say
|
| God save the king
|
| For he grants us leave to serve him
|
| His praises sing
|
| And grant that we may deserve him
|
| Who counts the cost?
|
| The cattle and men to be lost?
|
| 'Tis no small thing to serve a king |