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EBBA 37441

British Library - Bagford
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
SOLDIERS
RETURN:
OR,
His Promise to his Country-men perform'd.
To the Tune of The Soldier's Departure.

DEar Country-men, at my Departure,
When you thought that I was slain,
I satisfied you quickly after,
I'd return to you again;
And now in greater Pomp and Glory,
I have then my Banners spread,
And stifle that vain idle story
which reported I was dead.

In Forreign Fields, in many a Battel,
I my conquering Sword have drawn,
Where Guns in thundring Volleys [?]cle,
making many a Soldier groan;
I still fearless of the danger,
fought till I had gain'd the Field;
The Enemy cry'd brave valiant Stranger,
we unto thy Mercy yield.

MAny Conquests have I gained
and th' encroaching Turk supprest,
No Defeat have I sustained,
since I was left by the rest:
But now with such a strength I'm landed,
that no power can I'm sure
Withstand me, but they'd shoot each Man dead,
for to keep my Life secure.

Treach'ry shall no more betray me,
I'll no more such Villains trust,
I have those that will obey me,
And in each command be just;
Nothing can their hearts dissever,
for they are resolv'd all
To make me greater now than ever,
or in my Vindication fall.

Dear Country-men 'twas first to serve you,
that I took a Sword in hand,
I hope there's nothing now will swerve you
from obeying my Command.
When your Rights away were taken
the Land it lay in deep despair,
The Pillars of your Church were shaken,
and your Lives in danger were.

I griev'd to see such sad mutation,
and my Sword in Anger drew,
Resolv'd to stand in Vindication
(dearest Country-men) of you:
I seek no Honour nor Applauses,
But to maintain Englands Law,
And my Countrey-mens just Causes,
I have still a Sword to draw.

Pop'ry no more shall hurt our Nation,
nor our Liberties ensnare,
To rid you of all such vexation,
I have taken speedy care:
England once again shall flourish,
in its splendid Properties,
I'll myself take care to nourish
what may tend unto her ease.

When Affairs at home are settled,
Peace shall all the Land o'erspread,
The Romish Church will then be nettled
when they see I am not dead;
Brave Englands Church my Power shall right her,
& her Enemies pluck down,
I'll trample on the Romish Miter,
for to raise up Englands Crown.


Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner.

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