(Boris Grebenshikov/Sir Thomas Malory) Of Lancelot du Lake Tell i no more But this by leave These ermytes seven. But still Kynge Arthur Lieth there, and Quene Guenever, As I you newyn.
And Monkes That are right of lore Who synge with moulded stewyn Ihesu, who hath woundes sore, Grant us the blyss of Heaven. -----------------------------------------------------------