Текст песни: The Gage of War + перевод

here once was a herald of Scottish disguise

Successful in war and in love

But his claim to renown, if the stories are true,

Was his habit of dropping his glove.

It began on a Twelfth Night a few years ago

He came as a guest of the King

The boards were all set, the torches aglow,

And the minstrels had started to sing.

He paused for a moment to straighten his cloak

And his gauntlet fell onto the floor

He bent to retrieve it, and when he arose,

He found he had started a war.

The monarch was livid, his choler arose

To battle his forces he led

Two armies engaged, grim battle they waged,

And soon seven thousand were dead.

But the herald survived, alive and unharmed

Albeit a trifle chagrined

But a bare six months later his gage took a fall

And it started all over again.

Thereafter, mere sight of this gentleman’s glove

Was enough to provoke a melee

And had not his wife at last hit on a plan

We’d none of us be here today.

His gauntlets she bound with a stout piece of cord

Which she threaded apace through his sleeves

Her stratagem worked,

and no more were young maids

Of their new-wedded husbands bereaved.

So now let us toast this remarkable lord

Whose gauntlets were wont to aggrieve

And here’s to his wife who had the good sense

To sew the things onto his sleeves

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