Battle of Naseby

[Verse 1] It was about the noon of a glorious day of June,
 That we saw their banners dance, and their cuirasses shine,
 And the Man of Blood was there, with his long essenced hair,
 And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Rhine.
 [Verse 2] 
Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword,
 Our General rode along us to form us to the fight,
 But a murmuring sound broke out, and swell'd into a shout,
 Among the enemy horsemen upon the tyrant’s right. [Chorus] Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, 
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod;
 For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
 Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
 [Verse 3]
 And hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore,
 The cry of battle rises along the tyrant’s line!
 For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the Laws! 
For Charles King of England and Rupert of the Rhine! [Chorus] Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, 
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod;
 For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
 Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
 [Verse 4] 
The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, 
His bravoes of Alsatia, and his pages of Whitehall;
 They are bursting on our flanks! (Grasp your pikes, close your ranks!)
 For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall! [Epic Instrumental] [Chorus] Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, 
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod;
 For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
 Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
 [Verse 5]
 They are here! They rush on! We are broken! We are gone!
 Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast.
 O Lord, put forth thy might! O Lord, defend the right! 
Stand back to back, in God's name, and fight it to the last.
 [Bridge]
 Stout Skippon has a wound; the centre hath given ground:
 Hark! hark!--What means the trampling of horsemen on our rear?
 Whose banner do I see, boys? 'Tis he, thank God, 'tis he, boys, 
Bear up another minute: brave Oliver is here. [Epic Instrumental] [Verse 6]
 Down, down, for ever down with the mitre and the crown,
 With the Belial of the Court and the Mammon of the Pope;
 There is woe in Oxford halls: there is wail in Durham's Stalls:
 The Jesuit smites his bosom: the Bishop rends his cope. [Chorus] Oh, evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, 
And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod;
 For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong,
 Who sate in the high places, and slew the saints of God.
 [Verse 7] 
And She of the seven hills shall mourn her children's ills,
 And tremble when she thinks on the edge of England's sword;
 And the Kings of earth in fear shall shudder when they hear
 What the hand of God hath wrought for the Houses and the Word. [End]