William Walton — Old Sir Faulk

Old Sir Faulk Tall as a stork Before the honeyed fruits of dawn were ripe, would walk And stalk with a gun The reynard-colored sun Among the pheasant-feathered corn the unicorn has torn, forlorn the Smock-faced sheep Sit And Sleep Periwigged as William and Mary, weep... 'Sally, Mary, Mattie, what's the matter, why cry?' The huntsman and the reynard-colored sun and I sigh 'Oh, the nursery-maid Meg With a leg like a peg Chased the feathered dreams like hens, and when they laid an egg In the sheepskin Meadows Where The serene King James would steer Horse and hounds, then he From the shade of a tree Picked it up as spoil to boil 'for nursery tea' said the mourners In the Corn, towers strain Feathered tall as a crane And whistling down the feathered rain, old Noah goes again-- An old dull mome With a head like a pome Seeing the world as a bare egg Laid by the feathered air: Meg Would be three of these For the nursery teas Of Japhet, Shem and Ham; she gave it Underneath the trees Where the boiling Water Hissed Like the goose-king's feathered daughter--kissed Pot and pan and copper kettle Put upon their proper mettle Lest the flood begin again through these!