King Henry the Fifth?s Conquest over France in Revenge for the affront offered him by the French King, in sending him instead of the Tribute, three Tennis Balls.

As out King lay musing upon his bed,
He thought himself upon a time
Of a tribute that was due from France
Had not been paid for so long a time,
He called for his lovely page,
His lovely page then called he
Saying you must go to the King of France
To the King of France sir rose speedily.
O then away went his lovely page
This lovely page away went he
And when he went to the King of France
Lo ! he fell on his bended knee.
My master greets you worthy sir,
Ten ton of gold that is due to me,
That you will send him his tribute home.
Or in French land you will soon him see.
Your master?s young and of tender years
Not fit to come into any degree,
And I will send him three tennis balls
That with them he might learn to play.
O then returned this lovely page,
This lovely page returned he,
And when he came to our gracious King,
Lo ! he fell on his bended knee.
What news what news, my trusty page,
What is your news you have brought to me
I?ve brought news from the King of France,
That you and he will never agree
He says you are young and of tender years
Not fit to come into his degree,
And he will send you three tennis balls
That with them you may learn to play.
O then bespoke our noble King.
A solemn vow then vowed he
I will promise such English balls,
As in French lands he ne?er did see,
Recruit me Cheshire and Lancashire.
And Derby hills that are so free.
No marry?d man nor widow?s son.
Not widow?s curse shall go with me
O then we call?d out men all o?er
And number?d them three by three
We found out army did amount
To thirty thousand men and three
O then we marched into the French land.
With drums and trumpets merrily.
And then bespoke the King of France,
Lo, yonder comes proud Henry.
The first shot the Frenchmen gave,
Then kill?d our Englishmen so free.
We kill?d ten thousand of the French,
And the rest of them runs away;
And there we marched to Paris gates,
With drums and trumpets merrily,
O then bespoke the King of France
The Lord have mercy on my men and me,
O I will send his tribute home
Ten ton of gold that?s due to her
And the finest flower that is in France
To the rose of England I will give free,