The Knighting Of The Sirloin Of Beef By Charles The Second



The Second Charles of England

Rode forth one Christmas tide,

To hunt a gallant stag of ten,

Of Chingford woods the pride.

The winds blew keen, the snow fell fast,

And made for earth a pall,

As tired steeds and wearied men

Returned to Friday Hall.

The blazing logs, piled on the dogs,

Were pleasant to behold!

And grateful was the steaming feast

To hungry men and cold.

With right good-will all took their fill,

And soon each found relief;

Whilst Charles his royal trencher piled

From one huge loin of beef.

Quoth Charles, Odd's fish! a noble dish!

Ay, noble made by me!

By kingly right, I dub thee knight--

Sir Loin henceforward be!

And never was a royal jest

Received with such acclaim:

And never knight than good Sir Loin

More worthy of the name.