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The Wren
Joy, health, love, and peace
be all here in this place
By your leave, we will sing
concerning our king

Our king is well dressed
in silks of the best
In ribbons so rare,
no king can compare

We have traveled many miles
o’er hedges and stiles
In search of our king,
unto you we bring

We have powder and shot
to conquer the lot
We have cannon and ball
to conquer them all

The winter is past,
and the summer is here at last
And we bid you adieu,
great joy unto you