From the Bailey

From the Bailey to the Barbican
In the battlements they wait
They peek out of the Lancet
And they stand guard at the gate.
In the turrets and the towers
On palisade and parapet
The archers are preparing
For the targets they will get.

Beyond the stinking filthy moat,
The enemies advance
With Trebuchet and battle axe
With Armour, shield and lance.
They all seem to outnumber us
In chain mail and brigandine
With siege engine, hook and tower,
The like we've never seen.

Yes we know that trouble's coming,
And are well prepared to fight
The portcullis and draw bridge
Have both been closed up tight.
We hear their drums approaching,
We pray that we will win,
For soon enough the fighting
And the battle will begin.