by Ezra Pound
| HA’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ all | |
| For the priests and the gallows tree? | |
| Aye lover he was of brawny men, | |
| O’ ships and the open sea. | |
| When they came wi’ a host to take Our Man | 5 |
| His smile was good to see, | |
| “First let these go!” quo’ our Goodly Fere, | |
| “Or I’ll see ye damned,” says he. | |
| Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears | |
| And the scorn of his laugh rang free, | 10 |
| “Why took ye not me when I walked about | |
| Alone in the town?” says he. | |
| Oh we drank his “Hale” in the good red wine | |
| When we last made company. | |
| No capon priest was the Goodly Fere, | 15 |
| But a man o’ men was he. | |
| I ha’ seen him drive a hundred men | |
| Wi’ a bundle o’ cords swung free, | |
| That they took the high and holy house | |
| For their pawn and treasury. | 20 |
| They’ll no’ get him a’ in a book, I think, | |
| Though they write it cunningly; | |
| No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere | |
| But aye loved the open sea. | |
| If they think they ha’ snared our Goodly Fere | 25 |
| They are fools to the last degree. | |
| “I’ll go to the feast,” quo’ our Goodly Fere, | |
| “Though I go to the gallows tree.” | |
| “Ye ha’ seen me heal the lame and blind, | |
| And wake the dead,” says he. | 30 |
| “Ye shall see one thing to master all: | |
| ’Tis how a brave man dies on the tree.” | |
| A son of God was the Goodly Fere | |
| That bade us his brothers be. | |
| I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men. | 35 |
| I have seen him upon the tree. | |
| He cried no cry when they drave the nails | |
| And the blood gushed hot and free. | |
| The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue, | |
| But never a cry cried he. | 40 |
| I ha’ seen him cow a thousand men | |
| On the hills o’ Galilee. | |
| They whined as he walked out calm between, | |
| Wi’ his eyes like the gray o’ the sea. | |
| Like the sea that brooks no voyaging, | 45 |
| With the winds unleashed and free, | |
| Like the sea that he cowed at Genseret | |
| Wi’ twey words spoke suddently. | |
| A master of men was the Goodly Fere, | |
| A mate of the wind and sea. | 50 |
| If they think they ha’ slain our Goodly Fere | |
| They are fools eternally. | |
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