I sing the praise of honor'd wars,
the glory of wel gotten skars,
the bravery of glittring shields,
of lusty harts & famous fields:
For that is Musicke worth the eare of Ioue,
a sight for kings, & still the Soldiers love:
Look, for me thinks I see
the grace of chivalry,
the colours are displaid,
the captaines bright araid:
See now the battels rang'd
bullets now thick are chang'd:
Harke, harke, shootes and wounds abound
the drums allarum sound:
The Captaines crye za za za, za, za
The Trumpets sound tar ra ra ra ra ra
tar ra ra ra tar ra ra ra tar ra ra ra ra,
O this is musicke worth the eare of Ioue,
a sight for Kinges, and stil the Soldiers love.