[Illustration: Running a-muck.]
Oh! that Ayr tournament in that _ere_ shire;
With lots of gentlemen in _male_ attire,
And many a Don, and many a Skvire!
Took several _days_ and lots of _knights_ to mount;
And a great many _pages_ to recount
Its deeds of glory—Chivalry their fount!
Though lances _shivered_ (and no wonder, for
'Twas cold and rainy) no sword flesh'd its hilt;
And we'd pass all unnoticed: but, O lor!
We draw our own existence from a _Tilt_!