RONDEAUX OF THE GALLERIES

In Camelot how grey and green

The Damsels dwell, how sad their teen,

In Camelot how green and grey

The melancholy poplars sway.

I wis I wot not what they mean

Or wherefore, passionate and lean,

The maidens mope their loves between,

Not seeming to have much to say,

In Camelot.

Yet there hath armour goodly sheen

The blossoms in the apple treen,

( To spell the Camelotian way )

Show fragrant through the doubtful day,

And Master's work is often seen

In Camelot!

Philistia! Maids in muslin white

With flannelled oarsmen oft delight

To drift upon thy streams, and float

In Salter's most luxurious boat;

In buff and boots the cheery knight

Returns ( quite safe ) from Naseby fight;

Thy humblest folk are clean and bright,

Thou still must win the public vote,

Philistia!

Observe the High Church curate's coat,

The realistic hansom note!

Ah, happy land untouched of blight,

Smirks, Bishops, Babies, left and right,

We know thine every charm by rote,

Philistia!