A castle of bloodshed and slaughter,
Such a castle as barons oppressed with remorse
Inhabit, and nightly are seen in such force
With boots so brickdusted and voices so hoarse
On the Surrey side o’ the water.
Adolf von Lebenwurst sits in his chair,
The firelight flickers o’er him,
It lights up the curls of his chesnut hair,
It plays o’er his beard and mustachios rare,
For the sake of which latter the sex called “fair”