Hey hark, can I speak with, uh,
Yea you knoweth thyself, Look.
Ye have no idea what ye dealin’ with.
Pullin’ my bone off this spinning spit.
Ladle that mead, I’ll give you a sip.
‘Bout to pour wine, for why?
That’s my wench, that’s my wench.
Dat corset right there? That’s my wench.

I’ve been waiting for my knight to come.
Just to unsheathe my lute and have a strum.
And get me some, and get me some.
Just to unsheathe my lute and have a strum.

Lace up that bodice, you look fine.
No matter all the others, you’re all mine.
You say I favor all bazaar wenches,
Bar wenches.
She learnin’ a new word: it’s ‘cinch.’
Pike the world up, soon she spit the beat with me.
Wallace … tried to Freedom! up his lance with she.
Seen by Popes, bald brothers, and king regents.
And some true eunuchs that never loved wenches.
Twisted pilgrimage, true Canterbury.
My Wife of Bath more, more sanitary.
I’m a knave ha!
Vassal-lord life.
The maiden with me that’s
That’s my lady wife.
Hey lads and lassies, yeah I got a new query:
Who’s that old French sailor tryna look like Steve Perry?
No disrespect but you shoulda been gone!
Now they chasin’ this knave whose broadsword is long.

I’ve been waiting for my knight to come.
Just to unsheathe my lute and have a strum.
And get me some, and get me some.
Just to unsheathe my lute and have a strum.

Whan that aprill with the shores a-soote!
The draughte! Oh yeah!
When maydens goen on pilgrimages, forages!
Oh yeah!

Go mother for a bastard, for a bastard, grow faster
Say I’m keepin’ my gold e’ry time I get past her
How can something so virgin be so red-light with Master
With skirt and a bodice and no underneath fasteners?
Leo Vinci saw her face so he made her.
That’s right, bastard, Mona Lisa is afraid-a-her
I mean Catherine Aragon, she’s quite keen,
But why the finest icons always all queens?
Come on get some peasant girls up in this …
Half these maids ain’t got shit on Desdemona.
Don’t make me bring Juliet in it
Bring Hero, bring Leander, bring Ophelia in it
Back to Mere Loxleys
You deserve three sacks for my pox, see?
Please call the first aid tent,
I’m fevered with the devil’s sick
You belong in finer silks
Come to be with plainer wills
You belong with bastards who dip iron hilts
You too dope for any of these finer ilks
Begone demon kin, stop staring at her bench
Get your own maid, you heard?
That’s my wench.

I’ve been waiting for my knight to come.
Just to unsheathe my lute and have a strum.
And get me some, and get me some.
Just to unsheathe my lute and have a strum.