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 girdle round my sweet:

Ah! qu’elle est belle La Marguerite.

Ah me! I have never touch’d her hand;

When the arriere-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 varl............