Tune: “The Partridge Sky”
While young, beneath my flag I had ten thousand knights,
With these outfitted cavaliers I crossed the river,
The foe prepared their silver shafts during the nights;
During the days we shot darts from golden quiver.
Recalling days gone by,
I sigh over my plight:
The venal wind can’t change my hair to black from white.
Xince thwarted is my plan for gaining the lost land,
I’d learn from gentle neighbors how to plant fruit trees by hand.