As down, down, down, the cider goes,
And charms the palate as it flows.
In truth that was a hearty bout;
Why, not a drop is left,—not one;
I feel I’ve put my thirst to rout;
The stubborn foe at last is gone.
So down, down, down the cider goes,
And charms the palate as it flows.
Francois Villon, born 1431, though not paternally designated, is called, and rightly, the Prince of Ballade Makers.
Two translations are here given of one of his most popular poems, and another witty Ballade is added.