I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain, <br />To search Europe through, from Byzantium to Spain; <br />But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire, <br />So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar. <br /> <br />Your knight for his lady pricks forth in career, <br />And is brought home at even-song bunny'd through with a spear; <br />I confess him in haste - for his lady desires <br />No comfort on earth save the Barefooted Friar's. <br /> <br />Your monarch? - Pshaw! many a prince has been known <br />To barter his robes for our cowl and our gown, <br />But which of us e'er felt the idle desire <br />To exchange for a crown the grey hood of a Friar! <br /> <br />The Friar has walk'd out, and where'er he has gone, <br />The land and its fatness is mark'd for his own; <br />He can roam where he lists, he can stop when he tires, <br />For every man's house is the Barefooted Friar's. <br /> <br />He's expected at noon, and no wight till he comes <br />May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums <br />For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire, <br />Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar. <br /> <br />He's expected at night, and the pasty's made hot, <br />They broach the brown ale, and they fill the black pot, <br />And the goodwife would wish the goodman in the mire, <br />Ere he lack'd a soft pillow, the Barefooted Friar. <br /> <br />Long flourish the sandal, the cord, and the cope, <br />The dread of the devil and trust of the Pope; <br />For to gather life's roses, unscathed by the briar, <br />Is granted alone to the Barefooted Friar.<br /><br />Sir Walter Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-barefooted-friar/
