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“Bardcore for the noble, the knave, and the chronically online.” A medieval reinterpretation of Pumped Up Kicks by Foster the People — featuring lute, harp, recorder, and vocals in the old style. Lyrics: Robert be a nimble hand, He casteth eyes about the land, yet keepeth close his plan. A roll’d leaf he doth light, Hanging from his lips, a roguish knight. He found a sixfold iron wand, Within his father’s chest so grand, with trinkets strange and bright. What they be, I wot not— But he rideth for thee, aye, he rideth for thee. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, outrun his pursuit. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, swifter than his shot. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, outrun his pursuit. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, swifter than his shot. Father toil’d the livelong day, Home he cometh late, aye, home he cometh late. And bringeth forth a gift for me, A supper chill’d upon the plate. Long I’ve waited, hand and mind, Now swift the trigger’s pull I find. I parley with mine smoking leaf, And jest, “Thy hair’s aflame, thou’st lost belief.” All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, outrun his pursuit. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, swifter than his shot. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, outrun his pursuit. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, swifter than his shot. Run, run, fleet of foot! Runneth swift, runneth fleet! Run, run, fleet of foot! Runneth fast, lest death ye meet! All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, outrun his pursuit. All ye young squires with the gilded boots, Ye’d best flee, best flee, swifter than his shot. #Bardcore #MedievalMusic #PumpedUpKicks #CantorVonVibin