In the court of Charlemagne, French was spoken
With such dignity and robustness
That everyone who enjoyed a promenade
Around the room where court was held
Created such an air of class and poise
That never would have sufficed on the streets of Paree.
Yet the fine lace and wide skirts,
The wigs stacked high upon their heads
Made them prime targets for the streetwise
Who knew how to play on their finer senses
And beg for a bit of gold, just a small coin,
Given if only to cast the ragged-clothed wretch
Out of the way of the carriage.
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