An Elf Swashbuckler

Ho, my bullies, lift a tune To Queen Mab, and, come, make merry, By a mushroom in the moon, White as bud of berry!

Gentlemen, come! take your grog! Each one in his cap and mantlet: Who refuses is a dog!-- He must lift my gantlet!

Look! my gaberdine how brave! And my tunic, ouphen yellow! One a bat's-wing lately gave, And a frog its fellow.

And a moth's-head grew this fine Feather of my beetle-bonnet; See, my gnat-sting dagger's shine Hath its blood still on it.

Faith! this ring I wear, I swear, 'Twas Queen Mab who gave it: studded, As you see, with rubies rare-- Eyes of spiders blooded.

Doubt me, sirs, and by my blade!-- Sirrahs, a good stabbing hanger! From a hornet's stinger made!-- You may dread my anger!

Fill the lichen pottles up, Honey pressed from hearts of roses: Cheek by jowl, up with each cup, Till we hide our noses.

Good, sirs!--Marry!--'Twas the cock!-- Hey, away! the moon's lost fire!-- Ho! the cock! our dial and clock-- Hide beneath this brier!