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Regicide songs

29 Aug 19 - 06:47 AM (#4006346)
Subject: Regicide songs
From: Jack Campin

On a topical note - anyone know some good songs in favour of the execution of Charles I? There are quite a few dismal Royalist ones, I'm looking for one that says he had it coming.

29 Aug 19 - 06:58 AM (#4006349)
Subject: RE: Regicide songs
From: Big Al Whittle

I could write you one if you like...

Flippin' heck!
Charlie's got it in the neck...

29 Aug 19 - 10:38 AM (#4006383)
Subject: RE: Regicide songs
From: Big Al Whittle

(to the rune of Changing Guards at Buckingham Palace)

they'!re chopping off heads at whtehall palace
Oliver cromwell's grinning with malice
the crowd is shouting 'flipping heck!
Charlies getting it in the neck!'
With malice

they'!re chopping off heads at whtehall palace
Oliver cromwell's grinning with malice
The headsman's axe is terribly blunt
Oliver sez 'that'll fix that twit'
With malice

29 Aug 19 - 11:02 AM (#4006385)
Subject: RE: Regicide songs
From: Long Firm Freddie

The Horrible Histories TV programme had a song that explained the viewpoint of both sides:

The English Civil War Song

We are the Roundheads, we don’t want kings no more,
That’s why we started the English civil war.
People say we’re no fun, but we disagree,
Especially when explaining, parliamentary democracy.
We are particularly excited by the notions of jurisprudence…

That’s enough dullness, we’re the Cavalier crew,
Supporting King Charles, & everything that he’ll do.
Puritans bore us, it’s really a crime,
When your parliamentary business cuts our partying time.

Roundheads, soundheads, keep the music down heads,
Rules and regulations led, dull but fair.
Cavaliers three cheers, wackier head gears,
We love to boogie with our peers. Unfair? Don’t care!

I am the king, I can do what I like,
Start up a war, or a big tax hike.
Got a French wife, she’s a Catholic.

O law!
Really, King Charles, we’re not quite sure!

Insolence! Is that how you talk to the Crown,
I am the King, I’ll just close Parliament down.

I’ll think you find, that’s in breach of due process.
Here’s what we say to that (spit) Now clear up this mess!

Roundheads, soundheads, witches should be drowned heads,
Don’t believe in crowned heads, Parliament’s our thing.
Cavaliers three cheers, your superiors,
We’re all toffs who cry ‘Here, Here’ & ‘God Save The King’.
(That’s me!)

Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!

Cavaliers! Roundheads! The English Civil War!
Why is it called ‘civil’? May I kill you, please? Sure!

Love civil wars, to be fought on this land,
If I get to power, Christmas will be banned.

No chance Cromwell, victory will be mine,
You’ll never pass a ban on mince pies & mulled wine.

That’s what you think, just wait ’til you’re caught,
I’ll also scrap theatre, music & sport.
Your pathetic war will finish even before it’s begun,
We’ve taken Charles prisoner, the Roundheads have won!


Victory three cheers, Cavaliers in tears,
No power for years, I’m the leader of the pack!
Charles head Roundhead, hurrah now the king’s dead,
Sins binned, instead a righteous track

(But we’ll be back!)


PS They also did one about Charles II - the video is on YouTube:

Charles II

29 Aug 19 - 01:39 PM (#4006415)
Subject: RE: Regicide songs
From: Gordon Jackson

By definition, I suppose this is as regicidal as you can get:

Kill the King!

Doesn't actually mention the king by name, so it could be about Charles I if you like. Might not be your thing though, Jack!

29 Aug 19 - 01:53 PM (#4006416)
Subject: RE: Regicide songs
From: Jack Campin

This is the connection:

12 Sep 19 - 10:56 PM (#4008641)
From: Jim Dixon

From a broadside at the Bodleian Library, Douce Ballads 2(145b):

The manner of the Kings Tryal at Westminster-Hall, by the High Court of Iustice, from the twentieth day of january, 1648, to the seven and twentieth day of the same month. [A]lso the true manner of his being put to death at White-hall, near the Banqueting-house, on the thirtieth day of Ianuary, with his Speech made upon the Scaffold before he was beheaded.

The Tune is, Aim not too high.

King Charles was once a Prince of a great state
But yet he dy'd a death unfortunate,
Oh, he is gone, and now hath left us here,
And God doth know what courses we shall steer.

Now my sad story to you i’le relate,
At Westminster was cal'd a Court of State,
Where Serjeant Bradshaw was Lord President,
The Court being full, then for the King they sent.

There to the Bar a Guard did him convey,
In Januaries month the twentieth day;
Whereas Soliciter Cook did Read at large,
The order and the manner of his Charge.

The King's Charge.

Charles Stuart once admitted Englands King,
Which did such woes upon the Kingdom bring,
In setting up the Standard in the field,
Which was the cause that so much blood was spil’d.

Whereas thou didst raise arms within the Land,
Also against the Parliament did stand,
The peoples rights and liberties inthrall,
All those and more thou didst Tyrannical.

Therefore you guilty are of these sad times,
As Treason, Murther, and of such like crimes,
For which at Bar a Prisoner you are,
And in this Court you shall have tryal fair.

Here is your Jury, for it must be so,
You've heard your Charge, plead guilty, I or no,
What is it thus (then answered the King)
Was it for this you did me hither bring.

The King's answer to the Charge.

As for your Charge, a rush I do not care,
I do desire those things are right and square,
It was for my peoples freedom I did stand,
The Liberties and Laws of all the Land.

I do desire to me you would unfold,
By whose Commission you this Court do hold,
To whom the President did straight reply,
Sir you shall know by whose Authority.

This Court Prerogative whereon we stand,
Ordained is by the Commons of this Land,
It is not for Prisoners to despute the same:
Answer to that for which you hither came.

Then their Authority he quite deny'd,
And said by them he meant not to be tri'd.
At which the Court their verdict then did pass,
(Not answering, that he then Guilty was.

Then by the Clerk his Sentence there was read,
Saying, Charles Stuart thou shalt loose thy head
For murther, treason and for tyranny,
And to the Land a publique enemy.

Being condemn’d one thing he did crave,
That Doctor Juxon's presence he might have,
To Preach, and the Communion him to give,
And see his two sweet Babes while he did live.

The which was granted, all perform'd and done,
And he did see his Daughter and his Son;
It would have burst a stony heart to see
The weeping joy that was between these three.)

He blest them both, and for them he did pray,
Mourning at parting, then they go their way,
Father from Children, 'twas a grief full sore,
Each other in the world to see no more.

Tuesday the thirtieth of January last,
He from St. James to White-Hall past,
Having a Guard of flying colours spread,
And ratling Drums as to a Battel led.

With cheerful countenance and courage bold,
He said march faster, for the day is cold,
Then to the Scaffold he was streight convey'd
The which with mourning cloath was over-laid.

The King's speech upon the Scaffold.

Mounting the same (quoth he) I'le little say,
For in this World I have not long to stay,
It is my duty first with God to clear
My conscience free, next to my Country dear.

Unto the Parliament I ne'r thought ill,
Their Priviledges never sought to spill,
Ill instruments on both sides bred the strife,
Who was the cause so many lost their life.

The greatest enemies that sought my death,
I do forgive before I loose my breath:
I wish the kingdoms peace and Churches bliss,
For now Religion out of order is.

Lawful succession I do hope shall be,
(Granted by Parliament) now after me;
And for my Conscience and Religion,
I dye a Protestant and a Christian.

To Doctor Juxon then his George he gave,
Willing P. Charles his Son the same might have,
His walking-staff unto himself did give,
(And for his sake to keep whilst he did Live.

Likewise he gave the Duke of Richmond then,
One Watch, another to a Gentleman?
With Eyes lift up to Heaven he made a Prayer,
And then for death did instantly prepare.

Saying my earthly Crown I here must leave,
(Hoping a Heavenly Crown I shall receive)
Then on the block his neck he there did lay,
And to the Headsman then these words did say.

When as my hands and arms I open stretch
Strike home, be sure that thou a right blow fetch:
I come, I come, Lord Jesus then he cry'd,
One blow his head and body did devide.

Thus like a Lamb his death he there did take,
And presently this World he did forsake,
Whose Soul I trust is with the Lord on high,
And thus I end my mournful Tragedy.

F I N I S.

[London, Printed for] F. Coles in Wine-street neer Hatton-Garden.

13 Sep 19 - 03:40 PM (#4008708)
From: Jim Dixon

The following lyrics are from a broadside in the English Broadside Ballad Archive at The University of California, Santa Barbara:

Similar broadsides are in the Bodleian collection: Harding B 5(35), Harding B 5(36), Douce Ballads 3(25a)

England's Black Tribunal
Or, King Charles's Martyrdom.

TRUE Churchmen all, I pray behold & see,
Great Charles once England's king in misery
His suffering now I mean to tell,
How Britons did against their King rebel.

A court they made which they did justice call,
And there those traitors most tyrannical,
Of cruelty impeach'd the best of Kings,
Of murder, treason and such heinous things.

Basely they us'd the royal prisoner there,
He not being suffer'd truth for to declare,
It's strange says Charles a most surprizing thing,
You can't make laws now for to try your King.

Our court is just the president reply'd,
And by these laws, sir, now you must be try'd,
For against the lords and commons of this land,
It's not for prisoners to dispute and stand.

Then said the King I think my case is hard,
Worse than the malefactors I am serv'd,
For they have liberty to plead their cause;
Why don't you grant me the true British laws.

Consider first I'm your annointed King,
Take heed, lest judgment on this land you bring
For if the lord's appointed you do slay,
Take care you don't repent the bloody day.

In vain did speak this Prince of Royal Blood,
His words indeed they did but little good,
For by those bloody tyrants he was cast,
Charles Stuart, you must loose your head at last

As he pass'd down stairs, the soldiers base,
Did smoke tobacco in his royal face,
Spitting upon him as he did pass by,
Forgive them, Christ, forgive them he did cry.

It is no more than what my saviour dear,
Did suffer for poor sinful mortals here,
If thus the King of Heaven they did kill,
What is my blood to his, which they did spil.

My earthly crown I freely down do lay,
Although they thus do take my life away,
I hope a crown of glory to obtain,
Forever with the blest above to reign.

I now do suffer for a cause that's good,
For the protestant laws I always stood,
But when my head they from my body take,
Christ keep the church for thy dear mercy's sake.

Then he did beg his children for to see,
It being granted then that liberty,
Those that in England being present there,
To see their dying father did repair.

When the lady Elizabeth did her father see,
She trembling fell before him on her knee,
Having the D[u]ke of Gloucester in her hand,
Rise, says the King, before your father stand.

Behold dear child, the King to her did say,
Great Charles who once did England's Scepter sway
Is try'd and cast, upon the block to dye,
Not knowing of the cause or reason why.

O royal father said the Princess then,
What will become of us when you are gone,
If they've the heart to slay our father dear,
I fear our deaths are drawing very near.

If I could die upon the block for thee,
Death would be but a little unto me;
But I must live to see my father bleed,
O cruel tyrants you who do the deed.

O child! when I am gone, the King reply'd,
You have a God for to stand on your side,
I hope he will preserve the Stuart's race,
So heaven bless and mark you all with grace.

Then taking of the Duke of Gloucester young,
Upon his knee which was his youngest son;
Said he dear child, I give this charge to thee,
That to your brother you obedient be.

It is your brother Charles that I do mean,
You must call him your sovereign lord and King,
For they will cut off thy dear father's head,
The babe then wept for to hear what he said.

Then who must be my father said the child,
The lord of heaven said the King and smil'd,
With that the child upon his neck did fly,
Saying father let us both together die.

This kind expression of a child so young,
It caus'd the tears like fountains for to run,
A thousand times he kiss'd his children dear,
And on his knees with them fell down to prayers.

And blessing of them took his last farewell,
Saying with your father things will soon do well;
Next to the block this Martyr was convey'd,
At his own Palace gate to loose his head.

How can the Presbyterians bear to hear,
How patiently he did his sufferings bear;
How freely he his earthly crown did leave,
In hopes a crown of glory to receive.

In Windsor Chapel there his corps was laid,
When the Lord Bishop of London was deny'd,
At the funeral to read the common prayer,
A thing his royal master lov'd so dear.

Thus fell the Church as likewise fell the King,
O cruel Presbyterians I am sure this thing,
Can never be forgot, the bloody day,
On which your royal master, ye did slay.

We never more will put it in your power,
The Church of England up for to devour;
Heaven preserve the Church likewise the State,
And keep it from the Presbyterians cruel hate.

LONDON: Printed and Sold by R. COSTER, at No. 14, Hosier-Lane, West-Smithfield.