The Bustyd Beake Inne

Had I been up to speed at the time, this would have been perfect for Newcomers Collegium. Oh well, we'll have it next year.


The Bustyd Beake Inne

There is a tavern in this town
That’s called the Bustyd Beake
Where all the fighters of renown
Their ease and comfort seek.

The tables groan with food and drink,
All of the finest fare,
In quantities to make you think
The King’s whole army’s there.

There’s lasses there so fair of face
They make the roses blush.
And when they dance about the place
The loudest braggarts hush.

They have a clearing out the back
Where warriors show their prowess.
Their mighty blows land whack-kerack
As they combat before us.

Within the hall wise scholars share
The knowledge they have gained
From hours-long study, and all who hear
Are taught and entertained.

And last, but certainly not the least,
There’s poetry and song
To raise the spirits of our feast.
Join in and sing along.

When mundane cares have got you down
And revelry you seek,
There’s pleasures of stomach, sight and sound
Down at the Bustyd Beake.