Sunday, December 5, 2010

A Certain Lord of Sarum Ponders Existence

By Colyne Stewart

I wear a tunic white with a cross upon the chest
The drinking of wine the part of church that I like the best
a cup in one hand and a girl pressed close to my breast
i say when cold and dead there is ample time for rest
i fight with noble and worthy knights who know my place
who with strong swords strike me blows acorss my face
at graoning tables for a gfeast they save me space
ah truly my life is filled with naught but comely grace
a house of stars has come to earth to pick me up
at pennsic war with them i swear to drink and sup
ah with sweet bacchus' blood to fill my cup
and a lovely lass on my lap will bring things up
to impress my lord and ducal knight i humbly eat
while listening to his tales and outright lies down by his feet
six plump sausages with the trimmings all replete
ah bread wrapped porcine flesh is oh so sweet
across the country i travel and i fight to win
though the holy father tells me my life is riff with sin
i cannont hear his lecture over taproom's roaring din
as i sit and drink and eat in every country inn
one day my shield will be slow and wounded i will die
in stately dress and clean of face in coffin placed to lie
while looking down from heaven i'll be standing by
with cup in hand, girl in arm, and a twinkle in my eye

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