"Gold on her head, and gold on her feet, And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet, And a golden girdle round my sweet;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.Margaret's maids are fair to see, Freshly dress'd and pleasantly; Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.If I were rich I would kiss her feet, I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet, And the golden girdle round my sweet— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand; When the arriere-ban goes through the land, Six basnets under my pennon stand;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.And many an one grins under his hood: "Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good, Has neither food nor firewood;"— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.If I were rich I would kiss her feet, And the golden girdle of my sweet, And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.Yet even now it is good to think, While my few poor varlets grumble and drink In my desolate hall, where the fires sink,— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.Of Margaret sitting glorious there, In glory of gold and glory of hair, And glory of glorious face most fair;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.Likewise to-night I make good cheer, Because this battle draweth near: For what have I to lose or fear?— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.For, look you, my horse is good to prance A right fair measure in this war-dance, Before the eyes of Philip of France;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.And sometime it may hap, perdie, While my new towers stand up three and three, And my hall gets painted fair to see— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.That folks may say: "Times change, by the rood, For Lambert, banneret of the wood, Has heaps of food and firewood;— ⁠Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite;—"And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood Of a damsel of right noble blood:" St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!— ⁠Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite."