 | The Autumn Garden |  |
33
The Butchers' Row
They wandered down the Butchers' Row
In old Limoges the fair;
His love was dressed as white as snow
Under her ruddy hair;
It fared to be St. Maura's fête,
And all the bells rang out,
And through the ruinous English gate
There streamed the merry rout.
In old Limoges the fair;
His love was dressed as white as snow
Under her ruddy hair;
It fared to be St. Maura's fête,
And all the bells rang out,
And through the ruinous English gate
There streamed the merry rout.
The butchers' shops were black as night,
The flags were blue and red;
His love walked on in laughing white,
Merry the word she said;
And down the Row to the river-shore
She passed, so pure and gay,
The people took her for Ste. Maure,
And crossed themselves to pray.
The flags were blue and red;
His love walked on in laughing white,
Merry the word she said;
And down the Row to the river-shore
She passed, so pure and gay,
The people took her for Ste. Maure,
And crossed themselves to pray.
| The Autumn Garden | |