St. Crispinus' Day is a day for sloth:
Seneschal:
"O that we had a holiday
upon this day, an excuse for sloth,
a reason not to work."
Crispinus:
"What ho, my lord, if I must call you so,
do you rail for reasons?
If we are wont to sloth, then we will do so,
and if we are asked to work we shall decline.
By the Turtle of the Cliffs I care not for gold,
but for the frothy amber of a pint
I may be inspired to raise my pick or hoe,
but once quaffed the lethargy returns
and tool sinks to the earth.
I tire, lord, if I must call you so,
of kings and laws when fun I want
and if the want of fun is sin
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, horror, ask not for work or law.
By the aardvark, I do not care for your rewards
You think the scroll an honour
(and mayhap it is) but an honour bought how?
With work? With toil? With blind following of laws?
Nay, I have no stomach for this fight
and shall depart these sylvan shores
to pay my passage home with coin
raised through foolery.
This day I leave you, my work done,
and this day may be a holiday
for call it the feast of St. Crispinus
for he (or she) that wakes this day may
take their break from toil
to travel to a local pub
and raise a glass of ale or stoat
and toast the memory of me,
the glowering jester of Ardchreag.
Blow the foam, sip the mead,
Sample from the finest brews:
Guinness, Rickard's, Whitbread, Bass,
These are my pantheon.
Do not forget to take some time
for fun, by gods, for fun and folly.
Frolic on the cliffs, our home,
work as work ye must,
but on this day I have named for me
take the time for thyself
drink and be merry, hold thy cup high,
and exclaim while speech remains with you,
"To our leisure we give thanks,
Upon this St. Crispinus' Day!"