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 a 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 tonight 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! qu'elle est belle la Marguerite.