Have a seat in tavern inn, ere the night does dawn.
Drink your mead, and thwart your tumult, as the lights go gone.

Do not ubraid or be unsaited, join a tryst and let your wroth go dim.
Heedless you have gone to make your mark on poor old longshank tim.

Throught drear and dry, dusty lands you have gone to medal.
Now you must rest from memories of hard cold metal.

Now you sit in corslet dell, looking hence at timeless tail.
Here it is hythe and no ill may come, while you drink your ale.