When Canons are Roaring

Soldiers with swords in hand, to the walls coming,
Horsemen about the streets, riding and running,
Sentinels on the walls, "Arm, arm" a-crying,
Petards against the ports; wild fire a-flying.

When cannons are roaring,
And bullets are flying,
He that would honour win,
Must not fear dying

Trumpets on turrets high, they are a-sounding,
Drums beating out aloud, echoes resounding,
Alarm bells in each place, they are a-ringing,
Women with stones in laps to the walls bringing.


Captains in open fields, on their foes rushing,
Gentlemen second them with their pikes pushing.
Engineers in the trench, earth, earth uprearing,
Gunpowder in the mines, pagans upblowing.


Portcullis in the ports, they are downletting,
Burghers come flocking by, to their hands setting,
Ladders against the walls, they are uprearing,
Women, great timber logs to the walls bearing.


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