In a hollow tree I live, and pay no rent, And a-begging we will go. Of all the occupations A beggar's is the best, He can lay him down to rest. And a-begging we will go. I fear no plots against me, Then who would be a king, lads, When the beggar lives so well? And a-begging we will go, Will go, will go, And a-begging we will go. Old Song LXXIII BISHOP HATTO The summer and autumn had been so wet, Every day the starving poor At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day Rejoiced such tidings good to hear, The poor folk flock'd from far and near; Of women and children, and young and old. Then when he saw it could hold no more, 'I' faith, 'tis an excellent bonfire!' quoth he, So then to his palace returned he, And he slept that night like an innocent man In the morning as he enter'd the hall, As he look'd there came a man from the farm, Another came running presently, 'I'll go to my tower on the Rhine,' replied he, "Tis the safest place in Germany; The walls are high, and the shores are steep, And the stream is strong, and the water deep.' Bishop Hatto fearfully hasten'd away, He laid him down and closed his eyes, He listen'd and look'd; it was only the cat ; For they have swum over the river so deep, To do the work for which they were sent. They are not to be told by the dozen or score, Down on his knees the Bishop fell, And faster and faster his beads did he tell, As louder and louder drawing near The gnawing of their teeth he could hear. And in at the windows, and in at the door, They have whetted their teeth against the stones, And now they pick the Bishop's bones; They gnaw'd the flesh from every limb, For they were sent to do judgment on him. LXXIV R. Southey THE OLD COURTIER An old song made by an aged old pate, Of an old worshipful gentleman who had a great estate, That kept a brave old house at a bountiful rate, And an old porter to relieve the poor at his gate; Like an old courtier of the queen's, And the queen's old courtier. With an old lady whose anger one word assuages; They every quarter paid their old servants their wages, And never knew what belong'd to coachman, footman, nor pages, But kept twenty old fellows with blue coats and badges; Like an old courtier of the queen's, With an old study fill'd full of learned old books, With an old reverend chaplain, you might know him by his looks, With an old buttery hatch worn quite off the hooks, And an old kitchen, that maintain'd half a dozen old cooks; Like an old courtier of the queen's, With an old hall hung about with pikes, guns, and bows, With old swords, and bucklers, that had borne many shrewd blows, And an old frieze coat to cover his worship's trunk hose, And a cup of old sherry to comfort his copper nose; Like an old courtier of the queen's, With a good old fashion when Christmas was come To call in all his old neighbours with bagpipe and drum, |