Then the lovers, since lumber was high, And bricks were as then quite unknown, As soon as their tears were quite dry-- They quarried their parents for stone.
And now in a nice little tower, In Blissfulness tinged with Remorse, They live like as not to this hour-- (Unless they have got a divorce).
_Crime, Wickedness, Villany, Vice, And Sin only misery bring; If you want to be Happy and Nice, Be good and all that sort of thing._
Ye log burns low, ye feaste is donne, Twelve knyghtes of ye Table Rounde Slyde down fromme ye benches, one by one, And snore upon ye ground.
Ye log to a dimme blue flame has died, When ye doore of ye banquet halle Is opened wide, and in there glyde Twelve spectral Hagges ande Talle.
Ye log burns dimme, and eke more dimme, Loud groans each knyghtlie gueste, As ye ghoste of his grandmother, gaunt and grimme, Sitts on each knyghte hys cheste.
Ye log in pieces twaine doth falle, Ye daye beginnes to breake, Twelve ghostlie grandmothers glyde from ye hall, And ye twelve goode knyghtes awake.
Ande ever whenne Mynce Pye was placed On ye table frome thatte daye, Ye Twelve knyghtes crossed themselves in haste Ande looked ye other waye.
Why and Wherefore set one day To hunt for a wild Negation. They agreed to meet at a cool retreat On the Point of Interrogation.
But the night was dark and they missed their mark, And, driven well-nigh to distraction, They lost their ways in a murky maze Of utter abstruse abstraction.
Then they took a boat and were soon afloat On a sea of Speculation, But the sea grew rough, and their boat, though tough, Was split into an Equation.
As they floundered about in the waves of doubt Rose a fearful Hypothesis, Who gibbered with glee as they sank in the sea, And the last they saw was this:
On a rock-bound reef of Unbelief There sat the wild Negation; Then they sank once more and were washed ashore At the Point of Interrogation.
[Illustration: The Princess That was n’t.]
In a very lonely tower, So the legend goes to tell, Pines a Princess in the power Of a dreadful Dragon’s spell.
There she sits in silent state, Always watching--always dumb, While the Dragon at the gate Eats her suitors as they come--
King and Prince of every nation Poet, Page, and Troubadour, Of whatever rank or station-- Eats them up and waits for more.