By tenure of conquest here I sit;
I will rule you now with the iron hand;”
But he had not thought of the Saxon grit.
He took the land, and he took the men,
And burnt the homesteads from Trent to Tyne;
Made the freemen serfs by a stroke of the pen;
Ate up the corn and drank the wine.
From the Saxon heart rose a mighty roar,
Our life shall not be by the king’s permit,—
We will fight for the right; we want no more.