Shine, shine   The light of good works shine   The watch before the city gates   Depicted in their prime      That golden light all grimy now   300 years have passed   The worthy captain   And his squad of troopers standing fast      The artist knew their faces well   The husbands of his lady friends   His creditors and councilors   In armor bright, the merchant men      Official moments of the guild   In poses keen from bygone days   The city fathers frozen there   Upon the canvas dark with age      The smell of paint, a flask of wine   And turn those faces all to me   The blunderbuss and halberd-shaft   And Dutch respectability      They make their entrance one by one   Defenders of that way of life   The redbrick home, the bourgeoisie   Guitar lessons for the wife      So many years, we suffered here   Our country racked with Spanish wars   Now comes a chance to find ourselves   And quiet reigns behind our doors      We think about posterity again   And so the pride of little men   The burghers, good and true   Still living through the painter's hand   Request you all to understand