When William Penn appeared before King Charles To get the charter of his Promised Land In Pennsylvaniá, ’Twas in his usual free-and-easy style, With hands in pockets and his hat on side— Singing _Lard-dardy day_! _Let us drink and be merry, laugh, sing, and rejoice,_ _With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice,_ _Merry-ton-ton-ton ta-lay!_ King Charles at once removed his feathered tile. “Keep on your hat, young man!” said William Penn, “It is our Quaker way; And people will not know that you are bald; Be quite at home to make your guests at home— Singing _Lard-dardy day_! _This changeable world to our joys is unjust,_ _All treasure’s uncertain, so down with your dust,_ _Merry-ton-ton-ton ta-lay!_” “It is the custom here,” the King replied, “For only one to cover at a time; This is the courtly way.” “Then you should have more covers,” warbled Penn. “Warm people’s heads to make them merry men— Singing _Lard-dardy day_! _And in frolics dispose of your shillings and pence,_ _Since we all shall be past it a hundred years hence,_ _Merry-ton-ton-ton ta-lay_! “’Tis a queer world, and faith! I do not lay My hat around, loose, in a domicile Where I don’t know the way, Unless some party gives a check for it; I’ve travelled some—I have—and can’t be bit— Singing _Lard-dardy day_! Since, despite your invention, and learning, and sense, You’ll be _non est inventus_ a hundred years hence, _Merry-ton-ton-ton ta-lay!_” “Odds-fish!” exclaimed his Royal Majesty, “He talks full well, but as it seems to me, According to our way, There’s a tremendous pig in this same Penn.” “Bravo, young man!” said William; “try again— Singing _Lard-dardy day_! You have brought me a terrible one on the nob, But I bear you no malice, not being a snob, _Merry-ton-ton-ton ta-lay!_” And thus it is that history is writ, And thus it is good men are slandered sore From ever till to-day. Some writer pastes a joke; it may remain Safe in a corner from Time’s wind and rain Till Time has rolled away. _So, hurrah for King Charles! and hurrah, too, for Penn!_ _And all such and similar excellent men!_ _Merry-ton-ton-ton ta-lay!_ BALLAD OF THE FOXES There is a golden glory in my song As of a picture by Carpaccio, For it is of the early morning-time When every man believed with tender faith That animals could talk—oh, lovely lore! So, lady, listen as the lay runs on.