The Dominion of the Sword
Martin CarthyOriginal | Il testo della ballata originale, pubblicata nella raccolta “Loyal... |
THE DOMINION OF THE SWORD Lay by your pleading, law lies a-bleeding Burn all your studies down, and throw away your reading Small power the word has, and can afford us Not half so much privilege as the sword does It'll the foster the master, plaster disaster This'll make a servant quickly greater than the master Ventures, enters, seeks and it centres Ever the upper hand, never a dissenter Kruger, Krugerrand-a, whither do you wander? Gone to the suborning of Hastings Banda Kruger, Krugerrand-a, tear you all asunder Beira to Luanda, Gabarone to Nyanga Talks of small things, it sets up all things This'll master money, though money masters all things It is not season to talk of reason Never call it loyal when the sword says treason Balm for the worrier, the whaler, the furrier This'll get the measure of a Rainbow Warrior Incognito, come and sink a Rainbow President will never know, I should bloody coco Subtle deceiver, turns calm to fever See the pilgrim flay the unbeliever It'll make a lay man, preach and to pray man It'll make a Lord of him that was but a drayman Conquers the crown too, grave and the gown too Set you up a province, but it'll pull it down too No gospel can guide it, no law decide it In church or state, till the sword sanctified it Take books, rent 'em, who can invent 'em? When that the sword says there'll be no argumentum Blood that is spilt, sir, has gained all the guilt, sir Thus have you seen me run my sword up to the hilt, sir | THE DOMINION OF THE SWORD A song made in the Rebellion. From the Loyal Garland, 1686. To the tune of "Love lies a bleeding." Lay by your pleading, Law lies a bleeding; Burn all your studies down, and Throw away your reading. Small pow'r the word has, And can afford us Not half so much privilege as The sword does. It fosters your masters, It plaisters disasters, It makes the servants quickly greater Than their masters. It venters, it enters, It seeks and it centers, It makes a'prentice free in spite Of his indentures. It talks of small things, But it sets up all things; This masters money, though money Masters all things. It is not season To talk of reason, Nor call it loyalty, when the sword Will have it treason. It conquers the crown, too, The grave and the gown, too, First it sets up a presbyter, and Then it pulls him down too. This subtle disaster Turns bonnet to beaver; Down goes a bishop, sirs, and up Starts a weaver. This makes a layman To preach and to pray, man; And makes a lord of him that Was but a drayman. Far from the gulpit Of Saxby's pulpit, This brought an Hebrew ironmonger To the pulpit. Such pitiful things be More happy than kings be; They get the upper hand of Thimblebee And Slingsbee. No gospel can guide it, No law can decide it, In Church or State, till the sword Has sanctified it. Down goes your law-tricks, Far from the matricks, Sprung up holy Hewson's power, And pull'd down St Patrick's. This sword it prevails, too, So highly in Wales, too, Shenkin ap Powel swears "Cots-splutterer nails, too." In Scotland this faster Did make such disaster, That they sent their money back For which they sold their master. It batter'd their Gunkirk, And so it did their Spainkirk, That he is fled, and swears the devil Is in Dunkirk. He that can tower, Or he that is lower, Would be judged a fool to put Away his power. Take books and rent 'em, Who can invent 'em, When that the sword replies, NEGATUR ARGUMENTUM. Your brave college-butlers Must stoop to the sutlers; There's ne'er a library Like to the cutlers'. The blood that was spilt, sir, Hath gain'd all the gilt, sir; Thus have you seen me run my Sword up to the hilt, sir. |