Poetry Archives

Our good knight, Ted, girds his broadsword on
  (And he wields it well, I ween);
He ’s on his steed, and away has gone
  To the fight for king and queen.
What tho’ no edge the broadsword hath?
What tho’ the blade be made of lath?
  ‘T is a valiant hand
  That wields the brand,
So, foeman, clear the path!

He prances off at a goodly pace;
  ‘T is a noble steed he rides,
That bears as well in the speedy race
  As he bears in battle-tides.
What tho’ ‘t is but a rocking-chair
That prances with this stately air?
  ‘T is a warrior bold
  The reins doth hold,
Who bids all foes beware!