By the black rood of Waltham he roared, if any knave among you lays a finger-end upon the edge of my gown, I will crush his skull like a filbert
By the black rood of Waltham he roared, if any knave among you lays a finger-end upon the edge of my gown, I will crush his skull like a filbert
I've often wish'd that I had clear, For life, six hundred pounds a year A handsome house to lodge a friend A river at my garden's end A terrace walk, and half a rood Of land set out to plant a wood.
Love of my life, God grant the years
Confirm the chrism - rose to rood!
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories