The King

Joy, health, love, and peace be all here in this place By your leave, we will sing concerning our king Our king is well dressed, in the silks of the best In ribbons so rare, no king can compare We have travelled many miles, over hedges and stiles In search of our king, unto you we bring We have powder and shot to conquer the lot we have cannon and ball to conquer them all Old Christmas is past, twelve tide is the last And we bid you adieu, great joy to the new --- The King - Steeleye Span