A story I’ll tell you that pleasant shall be,
The Cripple of Cornwall surnamed was he.
He crept on his hands and his knees up and down,
In a torn jacket and a ragged torn gown,
For he had never a leg to the knee;
The Cripple of Cornwall surnamed was he.
He was of a stomach courageous and stout,
For he had no cause to complain of the gout;
To go upon stilts most cunning was he,
With a staff on his neck most gallant to see.