THE CROPPER LADS

Come, cropper lads of high renown
Who love to drink strong ale that’s brown
And strike each haughty tyrant down
With ‘atchet, pike and gun

The cropper lads for me
And gallant lads they’ll be
With lusty stroke the shear frames broke
The cropper lads for me

What though the specials still advance
And soldiers nightly round us prance
The cropper lads still lead the dance
With ’atchet, pike and gun

And night by night when all is still
And the moon is hid behind the hill
We forward march to do our will
With ’atchet, pike and gun

Great Enoch he shall lead the van
Stop him who dares, stop him who can
Press forward every gallant man
With ’atchet, pike and gun