THE BEGGAR-MAN
A beggar sat by the King's highway,
O, but the road was long!
His hair was black and his beard was grey.
Hark to the linnet's song!
He sat him down by the churchyard gate,
He beat his breast and bemoaned his fate.
There passed the King in his royal state.
Gay ride the merry throng.
There rode the King with his golden crown,
A hawk in the far blue sky.
His haughty Queen in her silken gown.
O, bleats a lamb close by!
Then came full slow on her palfrey white
The Princess, pale as the March moonlight,
And woeful it was to watch her plight.
Hark to the lost lamb's cry!
Then passed the Prince of a far-off land,
What canyon buy for gold!
Who came for his claim on the maid's small hand,
A lamb that has lost its fold.
His eyes were chill as the snow-set thorn,
And he rode all grim on his marriage mom.
He scowled at the maid who his suit did scorn.
0, but the wind blows cold!
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