The Fief

I have got my fief, good people all, I have got my fief!
No fear now that the frost will bring my toes to grief;
And little will I beg of niggard lords for my relief.
The noble king, the generous king, hath so supplied me
That in the summer I have air, and heat in winter cold.
My neighbours think me far more handsome than of old:
No more they eye me like a bogey now, as once they eyed me.
Do what I would, I was too poor this long while past;
I had a stinking breath, I railed so thick and fast.
The king hath made it sweet again, aye, and my song, at last.