Classic Poem

8.

A Crown, a Crown, make room,
The English man is come,
 Whose valour
 Is taller
Than all Christendome:
The Spanish, French , and Dutch ,
Scotch, Welch , and Irish Grutch,
 We fear not,
 We care not,
For we can deal with such.
You thought when we began in a Civil war to waste,
 Our Tillage
 Your Pillage
Should come home at last:
 For when we
 Could not agree,
You thought to share in our fall;
 But nere stir Sir,
 For first Sir
We shall noose you all.