Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/280

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262

THE TIMES OF KING LION-HEART.

And for Englishmen at home the while,
Their lawful king away,
Let them live at large like princes all,
As merry as the day;
For the roads are only few and bad,
Just fit for robbers bold,
In the good old times, the brave old times.
The merry times of old.

O'er the marshy lands the fever broods,
The plague is in the town,
But the king may give an orphan maid
For wife to any clown;
And the working man, like horse or dog,
So freely bought and sold,
In the good old times, the brave old times,
The merry times of old.

There are churches, there are abbeys fine,
Right noble buildings all,
And the shaven monks all fatten there,
Like oxen in a stall;
And the priest who knows his letters
Is a wonder to behold,
In the good old times, the brave old times,
The merry times of old.

But, when sore beset, they surely have
The ankle-bones of saints,
And a hundred other relics
To attend to their complaints,
For religion leaves the conscience
And the life all uncontrolled,
In the good old times, the brave old times,
The merry times of old.

Then King Lion-Heart returning,
Is in Austria waylaid,
And a hundred thousand silver marks
As ransom must be paid;
Let them levy it from sea to sea,
For no man durst withhold,
In the good old times, the brave old times,
The merry times of old.

Oh, we are not what we might be,
Nor what England shall be yet,
But for those old times, dear children,
Only simpletons will fret;