COLD IRON

"Gold is for the mistress

silver for the maid·

Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade. "Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall, "But Iron - Cold Iron-is master of them

all."

So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege, Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.

"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall, "But Iron -Cold Iron-shall be master of you all!"

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong, When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along! He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall, And Iron Cold Iron -was master of it all.

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a

Lord!)

"What if I release thee now and give thee back

thy sword?"

'Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall, For Iron- Cold Iron - is master of men all.

"Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown

Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown. "As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small, For Iron Cold Iron-must be master of

men all!"

Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)

"Here is Bread and here is Wine sit and sup with me.

Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I

He took the Wine and blessed It. He blessed

and brake the Bread.

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He said:

"See! These Hands they pierced with nails outside My city wall

Show Iron - Cold Iron - to be master of men all!

"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong,

Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong.

I forgive thy treason I redeem thy fallFor Iron Cold Iron must be master of

men all!"

"Crowns are for the valiant - sceptres for the

bold!

Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.'

"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall, "But Iron-Cold Iron-is master of man all! Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"

A CAROL

Our Lord Who did the Ox command
To kneel to Judah's King,

He binds His frost upon the land
To ripen it for Spring-

To ripen it for Spring, good sirs,
According to His Word.

Which well must be as ye can see-
And who shall judge the Lord?

When we poor fenmen skate the ice
Or shiver on the wold, 1

We hear the cry of a single tree

That breaks her heart in the cold

That breaks her heart in the cold, good sirs,
And rendeth by the board.

Which well must be as ye can see
And who shall judge the Lord?

Her wood is crazed and little worth
Excepting as to burn,

That we may warm and make our mirth

Until the Spring return

Until the Spring return, good sirs,
When people walk abroad.

Which well must be as ye can see-
And who shall judge the Lord?

God bless the master of this house,
And all that sleep therein!
And guard the fens from pirate folk,
And keep us all from sin,
To walk in honesty, good sirs,

Of thought and deed and word!
Which shall befriend our latter end-
And who shall judge the Lord?