Pantagruel clutches the holy bottle, And King Cole clutches his crown. They throw the bolt of the castle gate And race them through the town. * * * * * They cross the river and follow the road, They run by the willow trees, And the tiger banner and dragon banner Wait for the morning breeze. * * * * * They clamber the wall and part the brambles, And tear through thicket and thorn. And a wild dove in an olive tree Does mourn and mourn and mourn. * * * * * A green snake starts in the tangled grass, And springs his length at their feet. And a condor circles the purple sky Looking for carrion meat. * * * * * And mad black flies are over their heads, And a wolf looks out of his hole. Great drops of sweat break out and run From the brow of Old King Cole. * * * * * Said Old King Cole: A drink, my friend, From the holy bottle, I pray. My breath is short, my feet run blood, My throat is baked as clay. * * * * * Anon they reach a mountain top, And a mile below in the plain Are the glitter of guns and a million men Led by an idiot brain. * * * * * They come to a field of slush and flaw Red with a blood red dye. And a million faces fungus pale Stare horribly at the sky. * * * * * They come to a cross where a rotting thing Is slipping down from the nails. And a raven perched on the eyeless skull Opens his beak and rails: * * * * * "If thou be the Son of man come down, Save us and thyself save." Pantagruel flings a rock at the raven: "How now blaspheming knave!" * * * * * "Come down and of my bottle drink, And cease this scurvy rune." But the raven flapped its wings and laughed Loud as the water loon. * * * * * Said Old King Cole: A drink, my friend, I faint, a drink in haste. But when he drinks he pales and mutters: "The wine has lost its taste." * * * * * "You have gone mad," said Pantagruel, "In faith 'tis the same old wine." Pantagruel drinks at the holy bottle But the flavor is like sea brine. * * * * * And there on a rock is a cypress tree, And a form with a muffled face. "I know you, Death," said Pantagruel, "But I ask of you no grace." * * * * *