Cold Iron


'Gold is for the mistress - silver for the maid!
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade.'
'Good!' said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
'But Iron - Cold Iron - is master of them all!'

So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege -
'Nay!' said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
'But Iron - Cold Iron - shall be master of you all!'

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along!
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron - Cold Iron - was master of it all!

Yet his King spake kindly (Oh, how kind a Lord!)
'What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?'
'Nay!' said the Baron, 'mock not at my fall,
For Iron - Cold Iron - is master of men all.'

'Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown -
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown.'
'As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron - Cold Iron - must be master of men all!'

Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
'Here is Bread and here is Wine - sit and sup with me.