King Henry V. his Conquest of France,
In Revenge for the Affront offered by the French King;
In fending Him (instead of the Tribute) a Ton
of TENNIS-BALLS.

A
S our King lay mufing on his bed,
He bethought himfelf upon a time,
Of a tribute that was due from France,
Had not been paid for fo long a time.
Fal, lal, &c.

He called for his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he;

Saying, You muſt go to the King of France,
To the King of France, fir, ride ſpeedily.

O then went away this lovely page,
This lovely page then away went he;

Low he came to the King of France,
And when ſell down on his bended knee.

My maſter greets you, worthy fir,
Ten ton of Gold that is due to he,
That you will ſend him his tribute home,
Or in French land you ſoon will him fee.
Fal, lal, &c.

Your maſter's young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into my degree :

And I will ſend him three Tennis-Balls,
That with them he may learn to play.

O then returned this lovely page,
This lovely page then returned he,
And when he came to our gracious King,
Low he fell down on his bended knee.

What news? what news? my trutty page,
What is the news you have brought to me
I have brought such news from the King of
France,
That he and you will ne'er agree.

He fays, You're young and of tender years,
Not fit to come into his degree;

And he will ſend you three Tennis-Balls,
That with them you may learn to play.

Recruit me Cheſhire and Lancaſhire,
And Derby Hills that are ſo free :

No marry'd man or widow's ſon,
For no widow's curſe ſhall go with me.

They reeruited Cheſhire and Lancaſhire,
And Derby Hills that are ſo free :

No marry'd man, nor no widow's ſon,
Yet there was a jovial bold company.

O then we march'd into the French land,
With drums and trumpets ſo merrily ;

And then beſpoke the King of France,
Lo yonder comes proud King Henry.

The firſt ſhot that the Frenchmen gave,
They kill'd our Englifhmen ſo free.

We kill'd ten thousand of the French,
And the reſt of them they run away.

And then we march'd to Paris gates,
With drum and trumpets ſo merrily,

O then beſpoke the King of France,
The Lord have mercy on my men and me

O I will ſend him his tribute home.

And the fineſt flower that is in all France,
To the Rode of England I will give free.

Printed and Sold in Aldermary Church Yard,
Bow Lane, London a

L1659 pl-1