Amador ledger., 1906-07-06

stranger and more stirring were soon
to crowd upon him. The fat, red-faced
gleeman, the listening group, the arch
er with upraised finger beating in time
to the music, and the huge sprawling
figure of Horde John, all thrown into
red light and black shadow by the
f1ickering fire in the centre-memory
was to come often lovingly back to it.
At the time he was lost in admiration
at the deft way in which the jongleur
disguised the loss of his two missing
strings, and the lusty, hearty fashion
in which he trolled out his little ballad
OF the outland bowmen, which ran in
some such fashion as this:
"What of the bow?
The bow was made in England:
Of true wood, of yew wood,
The wood of English bows:
So men who are free
Love the old yew-tree
And the land where the yew tree grows.
What of the cord?
The cord was made in England:
rough cord, tough cord,
A cord that bowmen love;
So we'll drain our jacks
To the English flax
And the land where the hemp was wove.
What of the shaft?
The shaft was cut in England:
long shaft, a strong shaft,
Barbed and trim and true;
So We'll drink all together
To the gray goose feather
And the land where the gray goose flew.
what of the men?
The men were bred in England:
The bowmen-the yeomen-
The lads of dale and fell.
Here's to you-and to you!
:, To the hearts that are true
ana tne iand where the true hearts dwell"
''Well sung, by my hilti" shouted the
archer, in high delight. MANY
night have I heard that song, both in
the old wartime and after, in the days
Of the White Company, when Black
Simon of Norwich would lead the
stave, and four hundred of the best
bowmen that ever drew string would
come roaring in upon the chorus.
have seen old John Hawkwood, the
same who has led half the company
into Italy, stand laughing in his beard
as he heard it, until his plates ratified
again. But to get the full smack of
1t ye must yourselves be English bow
men, and be far off upon an outland
soil.''
"It passes me- he cried, show all
you lusty fellows can bide scratching
your backs at home when there are
such doings over the seas. Look at
me-what have I to do? It is but the
eye to the cord, the cord to the shaft,
and the shaft to the mark. There is
the whole song Of 1t.
"And the wager" asked a laborer.
you see what the wage brings" he
answered. ct eat Of the best. I treat
my friend, and ask no friend to
treat me. clap a silk gown upon
my girls back. Never knights lady
shall be better betrimmed and be-
trinketed. How Of all that, mon gar
con? And how of the heap of trif1es
that you can see fer yourselves in
yonder corner? They are from the
South French, every one, upon whom
I have been making war. By my hilt!
camarades, I think that may let my
plunder speak for itself"
Though there may be peace between
our own provinces and the French,
yet within the marches Of France
there is always war, for the country
is much divided against itself, and Is
Furthermore harried by bands of fay
ers, skinners, Brabacons, tardvenus,
and the rest of them. When every
mans grip is on his neighbor's throat, |
and every f1ve-sous-piece of a baron Is |
with tuck of drum to fight |
whom he will, it would be a strange
thing if five hundred brave English |
boys could not pick up living. Now
that Sir John Hardwood hath gone |
with the East Anglian lads and the |
Nottingham woodmen into the serv- |
ice of the Marquis of Montferrat to
fight against the Lord of Milan, there !
are but ten-score Of us left; vet may
be able to bring some back with me to
fill the ranks of the White Company.