|Lyrics: Master John Inchingham|
Prune the woods and sand the fort,
Go lug and lop and mow and mop and then report.
Tune the heralds, hay bales cart.
The battleground is tidy down in Pieter’s Park.
I am a dedicated slacker.
I am a midday napper.
I’m allergic to work; I’d rather play.
So I pray, Sir Pieter, stay away.
Pieter, the Field Marshal at Pennsic,
Thinks war should be neat and clean.
From his pulpit, he grins at the idle throng.
“I need a work crew—it won’t take long.”
War’s been a blight on history’s pages—
Slapdash, yes so shoddy—
But in the Current Middle Ages combat’s more refined.
(And Pieter says that we can fight, if we stay in the lines.)
Dear friends, please don’t mistake my whining.
I like war orderly,
And Sir Pieter in the pulpit is a right and proper thing,
But Heaven help us sluggards should he become king.
List now, my fellow lazy slackers,
At war, take life easy;
For our time here on Earth may be short or be long,
And, if Pieter spies us napping, we’ll sing this song.
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