The man it was not able
to scratch or bite one jot!
He bound it to his saddle,
then promptly up he got.
Unto the camp he bore it—
a prize of hardihood;
Which all was but a pastime
to that knight bold and good.
The man it was not able
to scratch or bite one jot!
He bound it to his saddle,
then promptly up he got.
Unto the camp he bore it—
a prize of hardihood;
Which all was but a pastime
to that knight bold and good.