Sir Kosherdill, whose name was known

From here to there and back again,

Did fall in love with maiden Joan,

The ward of Baron Bagelben.

They trysted in the leafy glen,

They trysted on the sandy shore,

Until the Baron Bagelben

Announced that they would tryst no more.

The Baron’s bearded face turned blue,

He smote a table with his fist

And roared, “You’ve better things to do

Than tryst and tryst and tryst and tryst!”

Fair maiden Joan sat down and wrote,

Requesting succor in her plight,

And, sealing it, dispatched her note

To Kosherdill that very night.

And thus it was Sir Kosherdill

At dawn did mount his horse and ride

Across the valley, up the hill,

And then on down the other side,

And through the flat-lands, soft and green,

And through the woods, and when anon

The Baron’s castle could be seen

He spurred his mount to hurry on.

He stopped his panting, lathered steed

Before the castle’s massive gate.

’Twas time for fine, heroic deed,

’Twas time to challenge fickle fate,

To beard the lion in his den,

To rise to heights of honor bright,

And Joan would have her freedom when

The summer moon came up this night!

By dint of courage, strength, and skill

He scaled the wall and then came down

Into the moat where Kosherdill

Did quietly and quickly drown.

And so was pointed up again

An adage old yet ever new.

You’ll hear it every now and then—

“You win a few—you lose a few.”

—Monroe D. Underwood