Our good knight, Ted, girds his broad-
sword on
(And he wields it well, I ween);
He’s on his steed, and away has gone
To the fight for king and queen.
What tho’ no edge the broadsword hath?
What tho’ the blade be made of lath?
‘T is a valiant hand
That wields the brand,
So, foeman, clear the path!
He prances off at a goodly pace;
‘T is a noble steed he rides,
That bears as well in the speedy race
As he bears in battle-tides.
What tho’ ‘t is but a rocking-chair
That prances with its stately air?
‘T is a warrior bold
The reins doth hold,
Who bids all foes beware!
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