Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365958" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lord of Misrule</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the London of James<br>We ran wild in the parks, <br>Assaulted the toffs, <br>Ruled the streets after dark, <br>We slit many noses, <br>Ungirdled each wench, <br>And lifted their kirtles on<br>Many a park bench.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They called us the Mohocks<br>We rambled each street, <br>Tipped many a chair<br>On its side in the street, <br>Caused mayhem and riot<br>And ran with the sword, <br>Put pastors to pleas<br>On their knees to the Lord! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When Christmas, it came in<br>A quiver of white, <br>We’d shiver, and wander<br>The streets every night, <br>While citizens revelled, <br>Stayed home, rich and poor, <br>Heaped coals at the hearth, <br>Locked and bolted each door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">‘The fun has gone out of it, ’<br>Grumbled Long Will, <br>‘There’s no head to punch, <br>And no Doxie to spill, <br>The streets are quite empty<br>And quiet as the tomb, <br>There’ll be no glad rioting<br>This night, or soon! ’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So Bodger and Catchpenny, <br>Long Will and Gull, <br>Stood frowning at Patrick<br>Who scratched at his skull, <br>‘This time of the season<br>They’re playing the fool, <br>So let us join in with<br>The Lord of Misrule! ’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They stood up, delighted<br>And mad as a coot, <br>They capered and cantered<br>And Will played the flute, <br>Gull got him a Tabor and <br>Beat it with glee, <br>Destroyed all the silence<br>In disharmony! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">While Patrick broke in to <br>An old Players Shoppe, <br>For Motley and nightsticks, <br>A barrel of Hock, <br>Then came out all dressed<br>As the veriest fool, <br>And bowed to us gently, <br>The Lord of Misrule! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">We swaggered on down to the<br>Church in the Dell, <br>While Patrick had jangled<br>The hat with its bell, <br>Then led our procession<br>In riot, alas, <br>Right down to the altar<br>In time for High Mass.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The preacher looked grim <br>As he halted his prayer, <br>The whole congregation<br>Sat just as they were, <br>They knew of the Mohocks<br>And not one would rise, <br>At risk of the beating<br>They saw in our eyes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The church was so ancient, <br>Lay under the Moon, <br>And barely three candles<br>Were lighting the gloom, <br>The tombs of Crusaders<br>Lay hallowed in there, <br>Each corner a knight, <br>And his lady, so fair! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So Patrick went up to<br>The altar, the fool, <br>Said: ‘I am your master, <br>The Lord of Misrule! <br>And you will go down<br>In your penance to me, <br>Or preacher, you’ll hang<br>From the mistletoe tree! ’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The preacher, he blustered, <br>The preacher, he fell, <br>The people, they scattered<br>Like hounds before hell, <br>The church was soon empty<br>And grim in the dark, <br>Then Gull became nervous – <br>‘It’s only a lark! ’</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The doors slammed behind us<br>The candles went out, <br>The Crusader banners cast<br>Shadows of doubt, <br>And then came a creaking <br>Of time and old sin, <br>And something was moving<br>That shouldn’t have been! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The knights on their headstones<br>Had lurched to their feet, <br>Came lumbering on from<br>Their centuries sleep, <br>With shields at the ready and<br>Swords in the air, <br>They swung at our revels<br>Through Catchpenny’s hair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I watched as poor Bodger<br>Was cleft at the front, <br>Before his head toppled, <br>Fell into the font, <br>While Will caught a thrust<br>From the next knight behind, <br>That sliced through his ribcage<br>And shattered his spine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then Gull I heard scream as<br>I raced for the door, <br>Flew in at the vestry<br>And hid on the floor, <br>The Preacher was nowhere, <br>He’d fled from the scene, <br>The moment the knights had<br>Creaked up from their dream! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When morning broke early<br>I slunk through the dawn, <br>Went back to my lodgings<br>And tried to get warm, <br>For outside the church, on the<br>Cross, like a fool, <br>And hanging in chains was<br>The Lord of Misrule! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">25 October 2010</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Lewis+Paget">David Lewis Paget</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=365958" data-title="The Lord of Misrule de David Lewis Paget" data-description="In the London of James
We ran wild in the parks, 
Assaulted the toffs, 
Ruled the streets after dark, 
We slit many noses, 
Ungirdled each wench, 
And lifted their kirtles on
Many a park bench.

They called us the Mohocks
We rambled each street, 
..."></div>
</div>
</div>