Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake,
Still your trowsers I’ll wash, and your grog too, I’ll make.
The Knightly Guerdon.
Untrue to my Ulric I never could be,
I vow by the saints and the blessed Marie,
Since the desolate hour when we stood by the shore,
And your dark galley waited to carry you o’er:
My faith then I plighted, my love I confess’d,
As I gave you the Battle-axe marked with your crest!