The Royall Crowne cures not the head-ach.
[The Royal Crown cures not the headache.]

The Royall Crowne cures not the head-ach.
[The Royal Crown cures not the headache.]

And in the years he reigned; through all the country wide,
There was no cause for weeping, save when read more

And in the years he reigned; through all the country wide,
There was no cause for weeping, save when the good man died.
[Fr., Ce n'est que lorsqu'il expira
Que le peuple, qui l'enterra pleura.]

Unhappy France! Unhappy King!
[Fr., Malheureuse France! Malheureux roi!]

Unhappy France! Unhappy King!
[Fr., Malheureuse France! Malheureux roi!]

When kings are building, draymen have something to do.
[Ger., Wenn die Konige bau'n, haben die Karrner zu thun.]

When kings are building, draymen have something to do.
[Ger., Wenn die Konige bau'n, haben die Karrner zu thun.]

God bless the King--I mean the faith's defender;
God bless (no harm in blessing) the pretender;
But read more

God bless the King--I mean the faith's defender;
God bless (no harm in blessing) the pretender;
But who the pretender is, or who is King--
God bless us all--that's quite another thing.

'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 are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil
times; and which have much veneratoin, but no read more

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil
times; and which have much veneratoin, but no rest.

God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
read more

God gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine,
For on his throne his sceptre do they sway;
And as their subjects ought them to obey,
So kings should feare and serve their God againe.

At length her grace rose and with modest paces
Came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saint-like
read more

At length her grace rose and with modest paces
Came to the altar, where she kneeled, and saint-like
Cast her fair eyes to heaven and prayed devoutly;
Then rose again and bowed her to the people;
When by the Archbishop of Canterbury
She had all the royal makings of a queen,
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems
Laid nobly on her; which performed, the choir
With all the choicest music of the kingdom
Together sung 'Te Deum.' So she parted
And with the same full state packed back again
To York Place, where the feast is held.