Rudel and the Lady of Tripoli
Part I.
There was in all the world of France
No singer half so sweet:
The first note of his viol brought
A crowd into the street.
And as he sat in Avignon
With princes at their wine.
In all that lusty company
Was none so fresh and fine.
His kirtle's of the Arras-blue
His cap of pearls and green,
His golden curls fall tumbling round
The bonniest face I've seen:
But hark! the lords are laughing loud
And lusty in their mirth
For each has pledged his own lady
The fairest dame on earth.
"Now, hey, Rudel! You singer, Rudel!
Say, who's the fairest lass?
I'll wager many a lady's eyes
Have been your looking-glass!"
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