(Tom Paxton)

When princes meet the poor little men must tremble
In judgment seat
They speak of their wars while great armies assemble
Their armor shines to shame the sun
They move like gods they do resemble
All bow their necks to iron feet when princes meet


When castles rise the poor little men must build them
To charm the skies
They throw up the turrets where the great lords will them
They dig the dungeons from the earth
And their brothers, wives and children fill them
All those below cast down their eyes when castles rise


God save the king for he grants us leave to serve him
His praises sing and grant that we may deserve him
Who counts the cost, the cattle and men to be lost
'Tis no small thing to serve a king


When kings make war the poor little men must fight them
They must do more
They hold out their necks for great lords' swords to bite them
The sons of lords cleave through their ranks
In the hopes some warrior king might knight them
It's what the poor little men are for when kings make war


Hide your cattle in the woods, Francois
The lord is looking your way
Hide your women and your goods, Francois
They're coming around to make you pay
Hide if you can, poor little man, think of a prayer to say
Hide if you can, poor little man, think of a prayer to say


God save the king for he grants us leave to serve him
His praises sing and grant that we may deserve him
Who counts the cost, the cattle and men to be lost
'Tis no small thing to serve a king


Repeat 1