It’s rather clear the hounds of war are barking,

It’s time to mount your steed and grab your sword,

For if you make a play for lands afar, king,

Your victory is very much assured.

I’m certain you’ll be imminently larking

Around a nice impressive golden horde,

While English soldiers’ heads are slowly arcing

Away from where their bodies have been gored.

Go on crusade!

The Holy Land’s calling,

You mustn't be stalling,

It’s frankly appalling

How long you've delayed;

So make for the ocean

With blessed devotion

And put into motion

Your plan to invade.

Although you may be looking now to England,

The pickings here are really rather poor;

If you would be a more successful king, land

Your ships upon a sunny Turkish shore.

These dreary marshes don't count for a thing, and

The Holy Land's the place we all adore -

If you should conquer there, then we will sing and

Shout the glories of your deeds forever more!

Go on crusade!

The English will fail,

Though weakness, betrayal,

They're going to wail

Like cats being spayed!

But you, king, can win it,

It won’t take a minute,

Rub their noses in it,

They’ll feel so dismayed!

You cannot let those people call you coward,

It's certain you should beat them at their game.

Instead of these unpleasant pastures, how'd

You like to see Jerusalem in flame?

With praise and holy favour you'd be showered,

And all of Christendom would know your name,

And from that moment on, you'd be empowered

To conquer every country where you came!

Go on crusade!

With your wisdom, sire;

You’re sure to aim higher

Than boring Yorkshire

(Which does little trade).

No need to move slowly,

Just get up and go, lead

Your troops to the Holy

Lands, all dressed in plaid!

So be not afraid,

Your name will not fade,

When you have made

Crusade!