Breadcrumb #328


Shall I build you a castle by the lake?
Call my old seneschal out of retirement
to order your household?
Down from the mountains-
from the village of his fathers
he'll come, and come smiling

Each of my barons shall send
a daughter to attend thee-
Only the prettiest, most graceful, or clever
I'll tell them.

Then some fine spring morning
when the last frost has lifted,
across the dark moorland
dividing our kingdoms,
myself, I'll come riding

Your bare-pated servant!
I'll step the garden path ginger-
with a basket of garlands-
to ask you out walking

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