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THE ROYAL OAK TREE.
When our great Sovereign Charles
was driven from his throne,
And dar’d scarce call the kingdom
or subjects his own,
Old Pendril, the miller,
at the risk of his blood,
Hid the King of our Isle
in the King of the Wood,
Great Royal Tree!
Chearful was He,
Who sat in thee.
In summer, in winter,
in peace, or in war,
’Tis acknowledg'd, with freedom,
by each Briitsh tar,
That the Oak, of all trees,
can best screen us from harm,
Best keep out the foe,
and best ride out the storm.
Great Royal Tree, etc.
FINIS.