I did not give a tinker's curse For the Stuart's or the Church; They never filled an empty purse Or freshened beech and birch. I fought the Puritans because Their sole desire was this; To fetter man with sombre laws And bar them from all bliss. They would have blacked the glowing sun, And damned the laughing brooks; Ripped up the flowers one by one And burned all hearty books.' Now I am but a simple churl Who loves the kine and gra**, To watch the burning dawn unfurl, And the fleecy clouds that pa**. I love to dream and take my ease, I wish no mortal ill; I thought to live my life in peace On some green Devon hill. But when the Broad-Brims stopped all play, And stifled fun and mirth I roused myself and rode away To ride them off the earth. The road is hard wheron I ride; My blade is never dry; Of all the troopers at my side, There's none more grim than I.