THE OLD WORLD.

———

BY GEORGE LUNT.

———

There was once a world and a brave old world,

Away in the ancient time,

When the men were brave and the women fair,

And the world was in its prime;

And the priest he had his book,

And the scholar had his gown,

And the old knight stout, he walked about

With his broadsword hanging down.

Ye may see this world was a brave old world,

In the days long past and gone,

And the sun it shone, and the rain it rained,

And the world went merrily on.

The shepherd kept his sheep,

And the milkmaid milked the kine,

And the serving-man was a sturdy loon

In a cap and doublet fine.

And I’ve been told in this brave old world,

There were jolly times and free,

And they danced and sung, till the welkin rung,

All under the greenwood tree.

The sexton chimed his sweet sweet bells,

And the huntsman blew his horn,

And the hunt went out, with a merry shout,

Beneath the jovial morn.

Oh, the golden days of the brave old world

Made hall and cottage shine;

The squire he sat in his oaken chair,

And quaff’d the good red wine;

The lovely village maiden,

She was the village queen,

And, by the mass, tript through the grass

To the May-pole on the green.

When trumpets roused this brave old world,

And banners flaunted wide,

The knight bestrode the stalwart steed,

And the page rode by his side.

And plumes and pennons tossing bright

Dash’d through the wild mêlée,

And he who prest amid them best

Was lord of all, that day.

And ladies fair, in the brave old world,

They ruled with wondrous sway;

But the stoutest knight he was lord of right,

As the strongest is to-day.

The baron bold he kept his hold,

Her bower his bright ladye,

But the forester kept the good greenwood,

All under the forest tree.

Oh, how they laugh’d in the brave old world,

And flung grim care away!

And when they were tired of working

They held it time to play.

The bookman was a reverend wight,

With a studious face so pale,

And the curfew bell, with its sullen swell,

Broke duly on the gale.

And so passed on, in the brave old world,

Those merry days and free;

The king drank wine and the clown drank ale,

Each man in his degree.

And some ruled well and some ruled ill,

And thus passed on the time,

With jolly ways in those brave old days

When the world was in its prime.