[Intro] Four men in a state room, candles burning low, Shrewsbury and Surrey, watching London glow, Palmer and Cholmeley, the king's own trusted eyes, Reading the common people's quiet, rising cries. [Verse 1] Shrewsbury frowns, calls the mood a coming blow, "I do not like this frowning vulgar brow" — he says it slow. Vulgar just means common, the folk who walk the street, Their mood is turning ugly, their patience hard to beat. [Chorus] The lords are talking low, the city's running hot, Strangers in the markets, taking what they've got, Commons means the people, the ones who wear no crown, And the tide is rising fast before it drowns the town. [Verse 2] Palmer leans in closer, tells the tale he knows: De Bard, the haughty stranger, stole a wife, it goes, Took Sherwin's lady, took his silver plate, Then sued the man for boarding her — a cold and twisted fate. Shrewsbury answers with a story of his own: A carpenter bought doves in Cheapside, brought them home, A stranger snatched them, beat him when he fought, Then had him punished for the trouble that he'd brought. Surrey jokes a little, though his voice goes still, Catours are the servants sent to buy and fill The larder for their masters, yet the markets won't comply, English blood is boiling, and Cholmeley wonders why. [Chorus] The lords are talking low, the city's running hot, Strangers in the markets, taking what they've got, Commons means the people, the ones who wear no crown, And the tide is rising fast before it drowns the town. [Verse 3] Cholmeley says it plainly, the king must hear this hour, When a messenger comes running, breathless, pale, and sour — The city is in uproar, the Mayor under threat, And Cholmeley blames the doctor — Beale, who would not let The bill of wrongs stay buried — he read it loud and clear Out at the Spital sermon, and the news has traveled near. Surrey remembers a sheriff, steady-handed, wise — called More, A man the people trust past any badge or law. "This tide of rage that with the eddy strives, I fear me much, will drown too many lives." [Bridge] Backstage, a censor's pen called Tilney cuts the night, Crosses "stranger," crosses "Frenchman," pens in "Lombard" outright, Nervous of the mirror held to neighbors living near, Hiding Tudor trouble in a quieter year. [Verse 4] "May by his gentle and persuasive speech Perhaps prevail more than we can with power" — Surrey's hope goes with them out the door, Four lords racing London, trusting in one name: More. [Chorus] The lords are talking low, the city's running hot, Strangers in the markets, taking what they've got, Commons means the people, the ones who wear no crown, And the tide is rising fast before it drowns the town. [Outro] Out the door they hurry, chasing London's roar, Remember Sheriff More — remember Sheriff More.
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