Gather ’rounde, fellow goodly knightes and faire maerrymakers! For thise saucy troubador has a talle tale to singe to thou, a tale as olde as ye merry olde taverne we now maerrymake withine! It begins as any goode tale doth, with a hearte as noble as the charginge Ram and a ladde so faire and sweete that the treese of the foreste doth bow to him as he walkes past. I speake of goodly Sir Jay of the Rounde Table.

Tra la la!
Bold sir Jay!
Tra la la!
’Tis a good day!
Fa la la!
When Jay doth ride!
Fa la la!
No evil doth he abide!
Tra la la, Fa la!

Jay doth hungered one fine summer day at noone houre. So with greate and mightye strength, he doth sprange forth from his comfortable chair!

Tra la, fa la la!

And he doth journeye past The Bathroome of Despaire!

Tra, la la! Fa la!

And into the Faire Court of Jay’s Kitchene.

Fa la la-la!

There he doth openede The Ivorye Cheste, sealed by darke magick. And lo! Leftover friede fowl from yesterday! A great boon! Rejoice!

Tra la la! Fa la la tra fa laaaaa!