Henry Fiol

Oriente Lyrics

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

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