"Bally, bully mally can
Hodak 'ee St. George ann,
Baresesh tally man,
Abdul caliph Hassan!"
"Pray, speak in English, brave Turk,
Let's 'ear what mischiefs in thee lurk."
The herald had spoken in response to his heathen jargon, and the Saracen scowled upon him hideously and answered:
"'Tis plain 'ee cannot understand
The language of the Turkey land
And so I'll tell as plain I can
In the words of the Englishman.
Here come I, a Turkey snipe,
Come from the Turkey land to fight,
And if St. George do meet me here
I'll try 'is courage without fear."
The Turk stalked around in brave manner, when a new arrival, the redoubtable St. George, entered. A cheer went up from the younger element of the squire's visitors, and even the whist players clapped their hands, for the Turk was no favourite, and did they not love St. George, the patron saint of England? St. George bows to the spectators, and by his speech does not appear very modest over his great victories.
"Here come I, that St. George,
That worthy champion bold,
And with my sword and spear
I won three crowns of gold.
I fought the dragon old
And brought him to the slaughter,
By that I gained fair Sabra,
The king of Egypt's daughter."
The Turkish knight drew his sword and with a warlike pass at St. George, hurled his defiance:
"St. George, I pray, be not too bold,
If thy blood is hot I'll soon make un cold."
The squire smiles, for there is a strong Cornish accent in the Turk's tone, notwithstanding his efforts to conceal it. But now St. George also has drawn his sword and with the threat,
"Thou, Turkish Knight, I pray, forbear,
I'll make thee dread my sword and spear,"