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When I'm at work within my stall, Upon him I will think; His kindness I to mind will call, Whene'er I eat or drink; His kindness was to me so great, The like was never known; His kindness I shall still repeat, And so shall my wife Joan.

I'll laugh, when I sit in my stall, And merrily will sing, That I with my poor last and awl, Am fellow with the King. But it was more, I must confess, Than I at first did know, But Harry Tudor ne'ertheless, Resolves it shall be so.

And now farewell unto Whitehall, I homeward must retire; To sing and whistle in my stall, My Joan will me desire. I do but think how she will laugh, When she hears of this thing, That he that drank her nut-brown ale Was England's Royal King.