Give ye of my best though the dole be meager ...
“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.