Give ye of my best though the dole be meager ...
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“Give ye of my best though the dole be meager.”
“That the tune ye play or the ballads that ye sing?”
“I sing a song of Freedom,” laughed the old blind beggar,
“Fiddle ye a tune that shall dance down a king.”
Swift then the fiddle-bow rasped on the fiddle-strings
Strange, high and wild rose the notes, clear and clean.
Nobles that were passing by, (steeds chaming bridle-rings)
Shuddered at the melodies of old bind Jean.