The Eve of Crecy

 Gold on her head, and gold on her feet, 
And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet, 
And a golden girdle round my sweet;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

Margaret's maids are fair to see, 
Freshly dress'd and pleasantly; 
Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

If I were rich I would kiss her feet;
I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet,
And the golden kirtle round my sweet: 
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand; 
When the arrière-ban goes through the land, 
Six basnets under my pennon stand;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

And many an one grins under his hood: 
Sir Lambert du Bois, with all his men good, 
Has neither food nor firewood;
Ah! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.

If I were rich I would kiss her feet, 
And the golden girdle of my sweet, 
And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

Yet even now it is good to think,
While my few poor varlets grumble and drink
In my desolate hall, where the fires sink,--
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite,--

Of Margaret sitting glorious there, 
In glory of gold and glory of hair, 
And glory of glorious face most fair;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

Likewise to-night I make good cheer, 
Because this battle draweth near: 
For what have I to lose or fear?
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

For, look you, my horse is good to prance 
A right fair measure in this war-dance, 
Before the eyes of Philip of France;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

And sometime it may hap, perdie, 
While my new towers stand up three and three, 
And my hall gets painted fair to see--
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite--

That folks may say: Times change, by the rood, 
For Lambert, banneret of the wood, 
Has heaps of food and firewood;
Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.

Form: Ballad

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