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01/19/11(Wed)10:45 No.13580093 File1295451938.jpg-(118 KB, 375x500, king2.jpg)
Big up, big up, tis a stick up, stick up And Im spearing squires quicker than a hiccup Dont let my double axe up in your loin and cod piece Order of gold fleece, neither pax nor peace Youre talking to the thievery sokeman Step into your pyre with thy blood on my robe Dont be a boob and get slashed over being resistant Cause when I pierce chains the knights need assistance
Goodness, gracious, the taxes Where the marks at? Where the larks at? Villein, hark that before you get your head dropped From the hood fop, bloody guillotine-chop And my main Yeoman has an itchy sword grip
One on his back, double-edged with a hilt Feudal sheriffs better strip, yeah, justice, peel Before you find out how broadswords feel
From the war hammer, putting all the holes in your scabbard The shilling grabber, feudal stewards dont have better Crescent circlets, tiaras and brooches Im pilfering goblets, Henry V couldnt stop it
Man, Marshals come through Im taking regal crest rings too Wenches defrock for their earrings and buckles And when I turn her and hurt her it's ending up in murder And if shes a witch then, burn her, burn her, burn her
So go get your bailiff, wench, he can get robbed too Tell him serfs took it, what decree's he gonna doom?
I pray apologetic or I will have to set it And if I set it, the village idiot wont forget it
Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Give me the lute. Give me the lute. |