Monday, July 08, 2019

Pantoum of The Hunt

Why yes, our hunt traditions are quite 'folk'
Our tunics are not red, but greenwood cloth.
Before King Charles was hidden in the oak
From hunted venison we made our broth.
Our tunics are not red, but greenwood cloth
Some said we coursed for human game, but no!
From hunted venison we made our broth
Though outlawed our repast was even so.
Some said we coursed for human game, but no!
If blood was shed it was not for our feast
Though outlawed our repast was even so.
When earlier still we sought the Questing Beast
If blood was shed it was not for our feast
Our feast was tales and wassails, never gore
When earlier still we sought the Questing Beast
As others of our Knighthood had before
Our feast was tales and wassails, never gore
We did not flinch from death, for all must die
As others of our Knighthood had before
We met that bony rider, sword in hand
We did not flinch from death, for all must die
Though blood of Pelinore, our hunt's but flesh
We met that bony rider, sword in hand
Our limbs in armour or in chain-mails' mesh
Though blood of Pelinore, our hunt's but flesh
We have no bloody secret draft to sip
Our limbs in armour or in chain-mails' mesh
Are not suffused by waters from Grail's lip
We have no bloody secret draft to sip
Rob and the Marion live not to this hour
Are not suffused by waters from Grail's lip
Traditions lived where secrets always sour
Rob and the Marion live not to this hour
Before King Charles was hidden in the oak
Traditions lived where secrets always sour
Why yes, our hunt traditions are quite 'folk'

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