Hie thee from London

medieval bardcore, folk ballad, medieval/renaissance folk, call-and-response folk chant

+ Show full styles

V4.5-ALL

The Flight from Londinium
Being a Ballad of High Speed, Illicit Wares, and the Great Escape North

In shadows deep at Wapping Wall, we stowed the fleeces rare,
With peppercorns from distant lands and silks beyond compare.
We muffled every horse's hoof with rags and sodden twine,
And prayed the clouds would veil the stars and hide the moon's design.
I do remember well 'twas autumn tide, the moon did shine,
My Haywain groaned through Middlesex with many a mournful whine.
At pace of twenty leagues an hour, the fields did bow their head,
Toward the mountain peaks we flew, by restless spirits led.
Our beacons blazed with fury and the wheels did spin apace,
My lady sat beside me, brother — fire was in her face.
Up stepped a Maltese Bawd of Southern school and wanton air,
She bore a heavy secret, yet 'twas more than we could bear.
"Give us," cried we, "wool and spices untaxed!" for our delight,
She laid her wares upon the board — a most unholy sight.
I cast my coin upon the wood to claim the prize I sought,
When lo! The Watch broke down the doors — we fled like men distraught!

Hie thee from London post-haste go! Hie thee from London go! Hie thee from London post-haste GO!
Hie thee from London!
For thou hast the look of a Leveller, a rebel in thy soul,
Away from London, mistress — make speed toward thy goal!

Iron cressets flared like demons' eyes, the alarums shrieked and wailed,
We pinched our flesh to know if we still dreamed — if sense had failed.
To the Pennines we spurred our mount in moments brief and few,
When Heaven wept a drizzle that to thunderous tempest grew.
The rain did lash the earth, yet still the Wain burned on the road,
We plunged into a fog so thick it seemed a ghost's abode.

Blindly did we venture on through shadow, mist, and night,
Until the sun of morning broke to lend us wretched light.
The mists did part, and there — as if by some malignant fate —
A Trooper of the Watch did stand, a-blocking of our gate!
He raised his gilded staff of state and bade our spirits quail,
But "Onward!" cried I to the beasts, "Lest we rot in gaol!"

With splintered wood and sparks of fire we broke the Watchman's line,
And left the law of England's King beneath the weeping pine.
One final mile of mud and blood, the river loomed in sight,
We plunged the Wain into the ford beneath the dying light.
With dripping manes and heavy hearts we reached the northern shore,
Where English writs and Leveller shouts could trouble us no more!

[Shouted]
Hie thee from London post-haste GO!
Huzzah!

2995/7500

The Flight from Londinium Being a Ballad of High Speed, Illicit Wares, and the Great Escape North In shadows deep at Wapping Wall, we stowed the fleeces rare, With peppercorns from distant lands and silks beyond compare. We muffled every horse's hoof with rags and sodden twine, And prayed the clouds would veil the stars and hide the moon's design. I do remember well 'twas autumn tide, the moon did shine, My Haywain groaned through Middlesex with many a mournful whine. At pace of twenty leagues an hour, the fields did bow their head, Toward the mountain peaks we flew, by restless spirits led. Our beacons blazed with fury and the wheels did spin apace, My lady sat beside me, brother — fire was in her face. Up stepped a Maltese Bawd of Southern school and wanton air, She bore a heavy secret, yet 'twas more than we could bear. "Give us," cried we, "wool and spices untaxed!" for our delight, She laid her wares upon the board — a most unholy sight. I cast my coin upon the wood to claim the prize I sought, When lo! The Watch broke down the doors — we fled like men distraught! Hie thee from London post-haste go! Hie thee from London go! Hie thee from London post-haste GO! Hie thee from London! For thou hast the look of a Leveller, a rebel in thy soul, Away from London, mistress — make speed toward thy goal! Iron cressets flared like demons' eyes, the alarums shrieked and wailed, We pinched our flesh to know if we still dreamed — if sense had failed. To the Pennines we spurred our mount in moments brief and few, When Heaven wept a drizzle that to thunderous tempest grew. The rain did lash the earth, yet still the Wain burned on the road, We plunged into a fog so thick it seemed a ghost's abode. Hie thee from London post-haste go! Hie thee from London go! Hie thee from London post-haste GO! Hie thee from London! For thou hast the look of a Leveller, a rebel in thy soul, Away from London, mistress — make speed toward thy goal! Blindly did we venture on through shadow, mist, and night, Until the sun of morning broke to lend us wretched light. The mists did part, and there — as if by some malignant fate — A Trooper of the Watch did stand, a-blocking of our gate! He raised his gilded staff of state and bade our spirits quail, But "Onward!" cried I to the beasts, "Lest we rot in gaol!" Hie thee from London post-haste go! Hie thee from London go! Hie thee from London post-haste GO! Hie thee from London! For thou hast the look of a Leveller, a rebel in thy soul, Away from London, mistress — make speed toward thy goal! With splintered wood and sparks of fire we broke the Watchman's line, And left the law of England's King beneath the weeping pine. One final mile of mud and blood, the river loomed in sight, We plunged the Wain into the ford beneath the dying light. With dripping manes and heavy hearts we reached the northern shore, Where English writs and Leveller shouts could trouble us no more! [Shouted] Hie thee from London post-haste GO! Huzzah!

0/500