Poem by Agnes Lyon

* * *

WITHIN the towers of ancient Glammis
  Some merry men did dine,
And their host took care they should richly fare
  In friendship, wit, and wine.
But they sat too late, and mistook the gate
  (For wine mounts to the brain);
O, ’t was merry in the hall when the beards wagged all;
  O, we hope they ’ll be back again;
  We hope they ’ll be back again!

Sir Walter tapped at the parson’s door,	
  To find the proper way,
But he dropt his switch, though there was no ditch,
  And on the steps it lay,
So his wife took care of this nice affair,
  And she wiped it free from stain;
For the knight was gone, nor the owner known,
  So he ne’er got the switch again;
  So he ne’er got the switch again.

This wondrous little whip remains
  Within the lady’s sight
(She crambo makes, with some mistakes,
  But hopes for further light).
So she ne’er will part with this switch so smart,
  These thirty years her ain;
Till the knight appear, it must just lie here,
  He will ne’er get his switch again;
  He will ne’er get his switch again!

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