Every Man May Be A King

Close your eyes my little boy
dream of running, dream of joy,
and listen to the truth I sing
Every man may be a King.
Oh, every man may be a King.

The pauper lad in tattered cloak,
the vintner boy who corks the the oak,
the tavern lass who stirs the broth,
and merchant’s son who cuts the cloth,
if their duties they each mind
then a Knight may choose to bind
to his service their working hands,
be they yet too small for lands.

Close your eyes my little boy
dream of running, dream of joy,
and listen to the truth I sing
Every man may be a King.
Oh, every man may be a King.

Taking up the gallant sword,
holding close the heavy board.
Roads to tourneys long they roam
defending honor of their home.
Final battle, one to one –
of the two the victor comes
to rule the land in peaceful war
as did the kings and queens of yore, so

Close your eyes my little boy

dream of running, dream of joy,
and listen to the truth I sing:
Every man may be a King.
Oh, every man may be a King.

Yes, close your eyes my little boy
dream of running, dream of joy,
though you now at mother cling
someday you may be a King.
Oh, someday you may be a King.