THE MOUNTED KNIGHT.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 43, 24 October 1891, Page 512

THE MOUNTED KNIGHT.

Beside a window sits the maid, a harp within her hand; In robes of golden silk arrayed, she looks out on the land, And sings a song of a mounted knight, who crossed the distant plain— Ting- a-tang — ting-a-tang — ting- a-tang —ting-a- tang—and ne’er returned again. Ten years pass on and yet the maid sits by the window there; Another fashion is the style in which she wears her hair, And loudly on her harp she plays that weird, familiar strain Of the mounted knight who went him forth and ne’er returned again. Another ten years fleet go by ; the maid is in her place ; Her silken robes have faded and the rose has left her face, And yet her voice keeps, as of old, the never-changed refrain Of the knight who left his native land and ne’er returned again. Still one more decade ; yet the maid the old, old story sings While age-bent fingers try to creep across the few left strings; And the leason why she sang this song her weary lifetime thro’— Ting-a-tang—ting-a-tang—ting-a-tang—ting-a-tang— ’twas the only one she knew.