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KYNGE ALFRED IN YE DANYSHE CAMP

A Saxon Legend - Written and composed by Philip Klitz
Dedicated to Mr John Parry Junior

A very long, long time ago, a thousand good years since,
We're told by old historians, there liv'd a noble Prince.
So great was he, so clever too, so learned and erudite,
That he could sing and play the harp as well as read and write.
In ancient records of those days, which bear the olden date;
They named him, and he still is called, King Alfred The Great.



They say his taste was exquisite, he played with pow'r and skill.
When, like a gracious Monarch, it was his Royal will.
The harp which he performed upon was averse to party faction
And like it's royal master, disdained a double action.
In style this harp was Gothic, had neither sharps or flats
Or paint, or gilt, or varnish like E-rards! E rats!
It happened that a Danish King with a lawless rebel band
Invaded poor old England's shore to seize the Saxon land.
King Alfred saw them coming on and kept a bright look-out.
But only sought the easiest way to put them to the rout.
His harp, he thought, would serve him well for such a rare occasion
So resolved upon himself to take a minstrel's vocation.
He tun'd his harp, disguised himself, then started on the tramp.
And thus he play'd and sung his way towards the Danish camp.
But what he sung or what he played must ever be a doubt,
As many of our oldest tunes, by use, have been worn out.
But as it is important now my story I should tell,
Perhaps a few more modern airs may suit us just as well.
Then hardly knowing what to do he gently walked along.
If anyone observed him he merely hummed a song.
When he'd reached the Danish camp, he found they were a mess.
He'd hit the time precisely, 'twas a very happy guess!
The Danish King had just rose up, to ask someone to sing.
When Alfred like a cunning fox sang God Save The King!
The ruse took well, the minstrel King sat at the festive board,
Where everything he play'd or sung was immediately encored.
One young gent asked for a song, something quite genteel;
When in the Ethiopian style he sang Poor Lucy Neal.
This pleased so much, exciting them, they were getting all so mellow.
That when the minstrel's health was drunk - He was a jolly good fellow.....
He was a jolly good fellow, He was a jolly good fellow
Which nobody could deny.
He saw how they were going on and tried to make them worse.
Till with drinking and with singing, he was getting very hoarse.
The King himself asked for a song, when to please the Royal Dane,
Alfred tun'd his harp once more and sang Poor Mary Blane.
Then, as they had been drinking hard, King Alfred, sly and arch,
Play'd them all quite sound asleep with Bocha's Grand Band March.
Then as he saw them falling fast beneath the Royal table,
He though he'd best be off at once while he was strong and able
So finding then the Danish King and all his men asleep,
He took his harp and out he went as soft as he could creep.
But once away, our Minstrel King, made the welkin ring
With the minstrel dance and the minstrel sing for the minstrel's up to everything,
Dance, Saxon, dance all Danish tryrants scorning
They're queer tonight and we're all right, so we'll all be up in the morning.
He hasten'd to the Saxon camp, his soldiers then to call up,
So took his harp and loudly play'd the famous Post Horn Galop.
The thrilling strain was not in vain, for with one tremendous rush.......
They fell upon the Danish camp who were soon obliged to brush!
The Danish King with all his men but vainly cried for succour.
The only answer they could get was Get out of the Way, Old Dan Tucker
Get out of the Way, Old Dan Tucker - Get out of the Way, Old Dan Tucker
You're too late to have your supper.
Now mark the moral of my song, avoid all future fighting.
Its better for to sing them out, tho' p'raps 'tis less exciting.
Then may we have a lasting peace to bless our gracious Queen.
And may the royal children be as good as she has been.
But in bringing up our future Kings, to make them wise and sharp;
I'd recommend the Queen and Prince to have them taught the harp.

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