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Night Fell Behind Lyrics
Then mounte! Then mounte, brave gallants, all,
And don your helmes amaine:
Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honor, call
Us to the field againe.
No shrewish tears shall fill our eye
When the sword hilt's in our hand,
Heart-whole we'll part and no whit sighe
For the fayrest of the land;
Let piping swaine, and craven wight,
Thus weepe and puling crye,
Our business is like men to fight,
And hero like to die!
And hero like to die!
And don your helmes amaine:
Deathe's couriers, Fame and Honor, call
Us to the field againe.
When the sword hilt's in our hand,
Heart-whole we'll part and no whit sighe
For the fayrest of the land;
Thus weepe and puling crye,
Our business is like men to fight,
And hero like to die!
And hero like to die!
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