La Belle Dame Avec Beaucoup de Merci
O who hath ale’d thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and comfy sitting?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing!
I met a lady in the streets,
Full beautiful, of fairy’s mind;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were kind.
She saw that I, old knight-at-arms,
Was haggard and so woe-begone,
And said: “you poor old geezer: come,
And have a nice sit down.
It is brassmonkey weather, mate,
With bitter wind and snowing too:
Come inside, to my fireplace blaze,
And have a brew.”
And so I went, and drank some tea
And warmed my chill away:
And then she gave me food: a pie
And can of I.P.A.
And then I had a little nap, and did awake
To find her on the phone:
Arranging my admittance to
The Old Knight’s Home.
And this is why I’m sitting here,
All warm and pale-ale roistering:
La Belle Dame Bonne-Merci,
Hath took me in.