Classic Poem

Draw rein; there's the inn where the lamps show plain —
Where we never may drink together again.
While the stars are lost in the slate-cold sky
Let us drink good ale before we die
In the wind and bitter rain!

Your sword is made ready upon your hip?
Then once again, man, in good-fellowship!
Though hunted and outlawed and fugitive
We shall drink together again if we live —
Set the tankard to your lip!

Honour and death and — how goes the tune?
See the clouds rift and disrobe the moon!
And a blood-red streak in the sullen skies
And — Honour and death and adventure's eyes —
Now spurs — for they'll be here soon!