“‘On, on, ye Franks, hew down their ranks,
Up, merry men, for the Ermine!
For Christian right ‘gainst Pagan might,
Up, merry men, for the Ermine!’
but one day Jock got hold of it, and wrote a parody on it.”
“Oh what a shame! Weren’t you very angry?”
“It was so funny, one could not help laughing.
“‘Come on, old Turk, you’ll find hot work—
Pop goes the weasel!
They cut and run; my eyes, what fun!—
Pop goes the weasel!’”
“How could you bear it? I won’t hear a bit more. It is dreadful.”
“Miss Ogilvie says if one likes a thing very much, parodies don’t hurt one’s love,” said Babie.
“But what did Sir Gilbert do?”
“He rode up to where Louis was standing with his back against a rock, and dismounted saying ‘My liege—‘”
“I thought he was an Englishman?”