Wat Tyler

And on the field at Blackheath

Us commons covered the earth

More men than ever I did see

Poor honest men from birth

The men were up from Kent, and out of Essex too

Though naught but the Thames divides us and unites us onwards

Through all the villages of England and on to London town

Where we poor men would meet our king and lay our grievance down

Wat Tyler led us men from Kent, rough hands were shaken there

King Richard and the commons our bold resolve and prayer

We knew our king would hear us, our loyalty was clear

T'was the bloody lawyers' poll tax that had brought us labourers here

And yet he wouldn't see us, so to London we did roar

And the poor there and the Essex men burst down the prison door

What happened at the Tower was justice, rough in part

The murders of the Flemish boys sat uneasy in my heart

"And now the king must see us" said Tyler to his men

And the very next day young Richard came and met us at Mile End

And on the field at Blackheath

Us commons covered the earth

More men than ever I did see

Poor honest men from birth

Kent and Essex, Bedford, Sussex received King Richard's word

No harm nor blame would come to them if home they would return

And Lincoln, Cambridge, Stafford too received our young king's favour

And thirty thousand left us there, believing it was over

But Tyler, he was not convinced and told us to remain

"I want to hear his words again, for nothing much has changed"

So Tyler, he approached the king and took Richard by the arm

And his rough but friendly gesture caused Richard's knights alarm

"Ah my lord" said Tyler, "companions we shall be"

"I shall trust in you my lord, if you will trust in me"

And so he called for water, and then he called for ale

And his manner shocked young Richard's knights and I watched the Lord Mayor pale

"I know this man" a voice accused, "Wat Tyler is a thief"

The Lord Mayor feared he'd harm the king, that was his true belief

And there at Smithfield drew his sword, and cut our captain down

And the heart went out of all of us with his blood upon the ground

And on the field at Blackheath

Us commons covered the earth

More men than ever I did see

Poor honest men from birth

Young Richard, he was merciful and he pardoned one and all

But home to Kent like beaten dogs, still serfs we had to crawl

But how precious was our liberty and the hope that filled us all

That left poor Tyler's severed head upon a bloody pole