[Verse 1] Bess is pawning the pastureland, acre sold to keep the realm afloat, Patents stamped like sealing wax — a monopoly on salt, on starch, on coat, The commons grumble, the market chokes, sixteen-oh-one she bends her knee, The Golden Speech, she hands them back — a queen's own strange humility, But wardship's teeth still gnaw the heirs, purveyance grabs the farmer's grain, Squeezing coin from feudal bones to spare the parliamentary pain. [Chorus] Selling the crown, pound by pound, Vender a coroa, sem parlamento ao redor, Die Krone verkauft, Stück für Stück, Land and patents, wardship's weight, No vote, no voice, just the royal estate — Selling the crown, selling the crown. [Verse 2] Enter James, the Scottish king, with Bate's case testing trade's own door, Impositions on currants, silk — the judges ruled the duties stand for more, Sixteen-oh-six, the bench concedes the royal hand can tax at will, No statute needed, no commons asked — prerogative climbing the hill. [Verse 3] Robert Cecil opens the ledger, offers up a clever trade: Two hundred thousand pounds a year if wardship's chains are finally laid, Abolish purveyance, abolish the Court of Wards and its old claim — Sixteen-ten the deal falls through, mistrust smothers the fragile flame, Parliament won't fix the sum, the king won't loosen his tight hold, The bargain dies in committee rooms, the crown stays underfed, undersold. [Chorus] Selling the crown, pound by pound, É vender a coroa, sem perguntar ninguém, Die Krone verkauft, ganz ohne Rat, Land and patents, wardship's weight, No vote, no voice, just the royal estate — Selling the crown, selling the crown. [Verse 4] Sixteen-eleven, a title's for sale, one thousand ninety-five the price, A baronetcy bought like cloth, nobility measured out and sliced, Lionel Cranfield counts the coins, tries to patch the leaking hull, Trims the household, audits the books, but the drain is never, ever full. [Bridge] Extra-parliamentary — that's the trick, raise the money, skip the ask, Erode the domain in silence, let consent become a mask, Nenhum contrato, kein Vertrag, no commons called to speak — Charles inherits this patched-up purse, this crown stitched thin and weak. [Verse 5] The merchants grumble, the gentry fret, the coffers thin as parchment skin, Each patent sold, each wardship claimed, a kingdom bartered from within, The people watch the royal shine dim as every levy climbs the wall, History whispers its warning low: the throne that sells will someday fall. [Outro] Selling the crown, selling the crown, Vender, verkaufen, round and round, Land, then patents, honours too — The bill comes due, Charles, it comes for you. Selling the crown.
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