THE 17th CENTURY SONG BOOK
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When Cannon Are Roaring

When cannon are roaring and bullets are flying,
He that would honour win, must not fear dying.

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, wildfire a flying.

When cannon 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.

When cannon are roaring and bullets are flying,
He that would honour win, must not fear dying.

Captains in open fields on their foes rushing,
Gentlemen second them with pikes a-rushing.
Engineers in the trench, earth, earth uprearing,
Gunpowder in the mines pagans up-blowing.

When cannon are roaring and bullets are flying,
He that would honour win, must not fear dying.

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

When cannon are roaring and bullets are flying,
He that would honour win, must not fear dying.