The Lord and Bastard o' 'Bresi

Actuawwy about the gweat city of Abresi. But, said incowwectwy. Weawwy hewps the whyming scheme.

Thewe is a pweasule in the pathwess woods,
Thewe is a waptule on the wonewy showe,
Thewe is society, whewe none intwudes
By the powt, and the music in it woaws
I wove not man the wess, but the Bastawd o’Bwesi.

A wuddy dwop of manwy brood,
The wowwd uncewtain comes and goes;
Wike daiwy sunlise, like a sulwen dusk
Season of mists and mewwow fwuitfulness,
The tlisting stweets and broken cobbres,
Picking ones way cawefulwy, aww to seek the Wowd’o ‘Bwesi.

Bweak, break, break
On the cowd gwey stones,
O’Sing fow the Bastawd o’Bwesi
Bawwads fow Ostwomiw and Tuvya,
Bowdwy they wed, bowdwy they took,
Cwean pickings o’Bwesi,
But the tendew gwace of a day that is dead,
Wiww nevew come back.