You need not call at the Inn; br I have ordered my bed: br Fair linen sheets therein br And a tester of lead. br No musty fusty scents br Such as inn chambers keep, br But tapestried with content br And hung with sleep. br br My Inn door bears no bar br Set up against fear. br The guests have journeyed far, br They are glad to be here. br Where the damp arch curves up grey, br Long, long shall we lie; br Good King's men all are they, br A King's man I. br br Old Giles, in his stone asleep, br Fought at Poictiers. br Piers Ralph and Roger keep br The spoil of their fighting years. br I shall lie with my folk at last br In a quiet bed; br I shall dream of the sword held fast br In a round-capped head. br br Good tale of men all told br My Inn affords; br And their hands peace shall hold br That once held swords. br And we who rode and ran br On many a loyal quest br Shall find the goal of man - br A bed, and rest. br br We shall not stand to the toast br Of Love or King; br We be all too tired to boast br About anything. br We be dumb that did jest and sing; br We rest who laboured and warred . . . br Shout once, shout once for the King.