So he made rebellion against the King, his liege, Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege. When the cruel cannon-balls laid them all along. He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall, And iron, cold iron, was the master over all.
Prayers are for the clown.
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown. As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small, For iron, cold iron, must be master of men all. Now sit and sup with me. He took the wine and blessed it. He blessed and broke the bread.