An Elf Swashbuckler

Ho, my bullies, lift a tune
To Queen Mab, and, come, make merry,
By a mushroom in the moon,
White as bud of berry!

Gentlemen, come! take your grog!
Each one in his cap and mantlet:
Who refuses is a dog!--
He must lift my gantlet!

Look! my gaberdine how brave!
And my tunic, ouphen yellow!
One a bat's-wing lately gave,
And a frog its fellow.

And a moth's-head grew this fine
Feather of my beetle-bonnet;
See, my gnat-sting dagger's shine
Hath its blood still on it.

Faith! this ring I wear, I swear,
'Twas Queen Mab who gave it: studded,
As you see, with rubies rare--
Eyes of spiders blooded.

Doubt me, sirs, and by my blade!--
Sirrahs, a good stabbing hanger!
From a hornet's stinger made!--
You may dread my anger!

Fill the lichen pottles up,
Honey pressed from hearts of roses:
Cheek by jowl, up with each cup,
Till we hide our noses.

Good, sirs!--Marry!--'Twas the cock!--
Hey, away! the moon's lost fire!--
Ho! the cock! our dial and clock--
Hide beneath this brier!