|
|
|
|
Tower Warders |
When our gallant Norman foes |
We may succeed - who can foretell? |
I have a song to sing, O! |
|
|
|
|
Wouldst thou earn an hundred crowns? |
For thou wouldst make a most tender and loving wife |
Elsie faints in Fairfax's arms |
How fares thy pretty charge, Elsie Maynard? |
|
|
|
|
Elsie, I have loved thee these two days |
Hail the valiant fellow who did this deed of derring-do! |
It is purely a matter of skill, which all may attain if they will |
Oh, thoughtless crew! Ye know not what ye do! |