Kerumbaban the Red
Kerumbaban the Red, he has a wondrous appetite,
He packs a wooden-handled sword,
His shield is figured copper-bright;
He wears a royal signet,
Dangled from a careless ring;
(He won it in a tournament,
while dicing with the king).
Kerumbaban, uproarious; in laughter and in deed,
Loves the women of the land,
And finds them flavoursome indeed;
An alewife on his knee tonight
A maiden by the castle gate,
(Who knows what time she made it home?
I hear they say 'twas rather late).
His boots are sewn by hand, from a supple dragon-scale,
He claimed them in a just reward,
For quaffing rough and brawling ale;
Breeches made of flaxen weave
Adorn his lanky nether-limbs;
(Within his pouch he carries thread
For fear the fabric's wearing thin).
A feather in his cap, 'tis said it's from Elodie's swan,
He met the lady by a lake,
And grassy sward he loved her on;
Tulinnitu the howlets' charm,
He propositioned to her face,
(He'll never push a girl too hard,
But can't abide the thought of waste).
Handsome? Our Kerumbaban has never claimed the word,
The nose's jut, the thrust of chin,
The twinkled eyes; are too absurd;
A shock of hair in auburn strands
That set to shame the copper's glim;
(Insouciance he practices
And finds it works a treat for him).
He met Amrinnah on the fells; and almost caught her eye,
Perhaps he kissed her shadow then,
We saw the sun blink in the sky;
Along the lane he spent a while
Beneath an all-enveloped tree,
(I don't know who he cuddled there,
I only know it wasn't me).
Kerumbaban the Red, he took a gildie from a lord,
And swore allegiance solemn
On his wooden-handled sword;
Reporting at the manor court,
He saved a beaten maid
(And tossed the gildie in the mire,
And called it thoroughly repaid).
Kerumbaban the Red, he always kisses, never tells,
The notches on the wooden sword,
Conceal a total rather well;
He wears a motto on his sleeve,
Stitched in intricate design;
Variety; the love of life!
(I think the stitching may be mine.)
He packs a wooden-handled sword,
His shield is figured copper-bright;
He wears a royal signet,
Dangled from a careless ring;
(He won it in a tournament,
while dicing with the king).
Kerumbaban, uproarious; in laughter and in deed,
Loves the women of the land,
And finds them flavoursome indeed;
An alewife on his knee tonight
A maiden by the castle gate,
(Who knows what time she made it home?
I hear they say 'twas rather late).
His boots are sewn by hand, from a supple dragon-scale,
He claimed them in a just reward,
For quaffing rough and brawling ale;
Breeches made of flaxen weave
Adorn his lanky nether-limbs;
(Within his pouch he carries thread
For fear the fabric's wearing thin).
A feather in his cap, 'tis said it's from Elodie's swan,
He met the lady by a lake,
And grassy sward he loved her on;
Tulinnitu the howlets' charm,
He propositioned to her face,
(He'll never push a girl too hard,
But can't abide the thought of waste).
Handsome? Our Kerumbaban has never claimed the word,
The nose's jut, the thrust of chin,
The twinkled eyes; are too absurd;
A shock of hair in auburn strands
That set to shame the copper's glim;
(Insouciance he practices
And finds it works a treat for him).
He met Amrinnah on the fells; and almost caught her eye,
Perhaps he kissed her shadow then,
We saw the sun blink in the sky;
Along the lane he spent a while
Beneath an all-enveloped tree,
(I don't know who he cuddled there,
I only know it wasn't me).
Kerumbaban the Red, he took a gildie from a lord,
And swore allegiance solemn
On his wooden-handled sword;
Reporting at the manor court,
He saved a beaten maid
(And tossed the gildie in the mire,
And called it thoroughly repaid).
Kerumbaban the Red, he always kisses, never tells,
The notches on the wooden sword,
Conceal a total rather well;
He wears a motto on his sleeve,
Stitched in intricate design;
Variety; the love of life!
(I think the stitching may be mine.)