Night Fell Behind

Then mounte! Then mounte, brave gallants, all,
And don your helmes amaine:
Deathes couriers, fame and honor, call
Us to the field again.

No shrewish tears shall fill our eye
When the sword hilts in our hand,
Heart-whole well part and no white sighe
For the fairest of the land;

Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus wheepe and puling crye
Our business is life men to fight,
And hero life to die!



Credits
Writer(s): Richard Lederer, Michael Andreas Gregor
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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