on an evening
of bleak winter chill
a lone knight rode
to Bartonleigh hill*
stationed there
was his maiden cute
plucking the strings
of an out of tune lute
as she plucked
the rats did cry
never had they heard
such a rumpus lullaby
upon her door
a knocker knocked
it was the lone knight
minus his left sock
oh she said
your foot looks blue
come warm it near
the fire's flaming hue
he quickly placed
his toes by the hearth's side
thence gave a promise
*to take her as his bride