I did not give a tinker's curse
For the Stuart's or the Church;
They never filled an empty purse
Or freshened beech and birch.
I fought the Puritans because
Their sole desire was this;
To fetter man with sombre laws
And bar them from all bliss.
They would have blacked the glowing sun,
And damned the laughing brooks;
Ripped up the flowers one by one
And burned all hearty books.'
Now I am but a simple churl
Who loves the kine and gra**,
To watch the burning dawn unfurl,
And the fleecy clouds that pa**.
I love to dream and take my ease,
I wish no mortal ill;
I thought to live my life in peace
On some green Devon hill.
But when the Broad-Brims stopped all play,
And stifled fun and mirth
I roused myself and rode away
To ride them off the earth.
The road is hard wheron I ride;
My blade is never dry;
Of all the troopers at my side,
There's none more grim than I.