Now let us sing, long live the king.

Now let us sing, long live the king.

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy old crown on 'er 'ead?
She read more

'Ave you 'eard o' the Widow at Windsor
With a hairy old crown on 'er 'ead?
She 'as ships on the foam--she 'as millions at 'ome,
An' she pays us poor beggars in red.

Princes that would their people should do well
Must at themselves begin, as at the head;
For read more

Princes that would their people should do well
Must at themselves begin, as at the head;
For men, by their example, pattern out
Their limitations, and regard of laws:
A virtuous court a world to virtue draws.

'Tis a very fine thing to be father-in-law
To a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw.

'Tis a very fine thing to be father-in-law
To a very magnificent three-tailed bashaw.

A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue sound,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
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A prince, the moment he is crown'd,
Inherits every virtue sound,
As emblems of the sovereign power,
Like other baubles in the Tower:
Is generous, valiant, just, and wise,
And so continues till he dies.

I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The read more

I give this heavy weight from off my head
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand,
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart.
With mine own tears I wash away my balm,
With mine own hands I give away my crown,
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state,
With mine own breath release all duty's rites.

Yet looks he like a king. Behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's lightens forth
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Yet looks he like a king. Behold, his eye,
As bright as is the eagle's lightens forth
Controlling majesty.

Whatever I can say or do.
I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of read more

Whatever I can say or do.
I'm sure not much avails;
I shall still Vicar be of Bray,
Whichever side prevails.

For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed--
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence, Throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends. Subjected thus,