Get you, with your almain rivetts (latest
fad from Germany), and your corselet,
and your two coats of plate! How much harness
does a man need? None, when he's in his grave.
Your sons may have it, together with your
damask and satin gowns to show off in;
while you go to lie down in Witham church,
and the most armour I've seen in a will
rusts or turns ridiculous in this world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem