Good health, love and peace be all here in this place.
By your leave we will sing, concerning our king.

Our king is well-dressed in silks of the best,
In ribbons so rare no king [bad word] 

We have travelled many miles over hedges and stiles,
In search of our king unto you we bring.

We have powder and shot to conquer the lot,
We have cannon and ball to conquer them all.

Old Christmas is past, twelve tide is the last,
And we bid you adieu, great joy to the new.