With that he suited his path to mine
And we travelled merrily,
Till I was ware of the promised sign
And the door of an hostelry.
And the Romany sang, "To the very life
Ye shall pay for bed and board;
Will ye turn aside to the House of Strife?
Will ye lodge at the Inn o' the Sword?"
Then I looked at the inn 'twixt joy and fear,
And the Romany looked at me.