I Am a Friar of Orders Gray

From the Opera of “Robin Hood” I AM a friar of orders gray, And down in the valleys I take my way; I pull not blackberry, haw, or hip,— Good store of venison fills my scrip; My long bead-roll I merrily chant; Where’er I walk no money I want; And why I ’m so plump the reason I tell,— Who leads a good life is sure to live well.       What baron or squire,       Or knight of the shire,       Lives half so well as a holy friar? After supper of heaven I dream, But that is a pullet and clouted cream; Myself, by denial, I mortify— With a dainty bit of a warden-pie; I ’m clothed in sackcloth for my sin,— With old sack wine I ’m lined within; A chirping cup is my matin song, And the vesper’s bell is my bowl, ding dong.       What baron or squire,       Or knight of the shire,       Lives half so well as a holy friar?