Page 31 of 37 THE LANG COORTIN' - Phantasmagoria and Other Poems

THE LANG COORTIN'

The ladye she stood at her lattice high, Wi' her doggie at her feet; Thorough the lattice she can spy The passers in the street,

"There's one that standeth at the door, And tirleth at the pin: Now speak and say, my popinjay, If I sall let him in."

Then up and spake the popinjay That flew abune her head: "Gae let him in that tirls the pin: He cometh thee to wed."

O when he cam' the parlour in, A woeful man was he! "And dinna ye ken your lover agen, Sae well that loveth thee?"

"And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir, That have been sae lang away? And how wad I ken ye loved me, Sir? Ye never telled me sae."

Said--"Ladye dear," and the salt, salt tear Cam' rinnin' doon his cheek, "I have sent the tokens of my love This many and many a week.

"O didna ye get the rings, Ladye, The rings o' the gowd sae fine? I wot that I have sent to thee Four score, four score and nine."

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye. "Wow, they were flimsie things!" Said--"that chain o' gowd, my doggie to howd, It is made o' thae self-same rings."

"And didna ye get the locks, the locks, The locks o' my ain black hair, Whilk I sent by post, whilk I sent by box, Whilk I sent by the carrier?"

"They cam' to me," said that fair ladye; "And I prithee send nae mair!" Said--"that cushion sae red, for my doggie's head, It is stuffed wi' thae locks o' hair."

"And didna ye get the letter, Ladye, Tied wi' a silken string, Whilk I sent to thee frae the far countrie, A message of love to bring?"

"It cam' to me frae the far countrie Wi' its silken string and a'; But it wasna prepaid," said that high-born maid, "Sae I gar'd them tak' it awa'."

"O ever alack that ye sent it back, It was written sae clerkly and well! Now the message it brought, and the boon that it sought, I must even say it mysel'."

Then up and spake the popinjay, Sae wisely counselled he. "Now say it in the proper way: Gae doon upon thy knee!"

The lover he turned baith red and pale, Went doon upon his knee: "O Ladye, hear the waesome tale That must be told to thee!

"For five lang years, and five lang years, I coorted thee by looks; By nods and winks, by smiles and tears, As I had read in books.

"For ten lang years, O weary hours! I coorted thee by signs; By sending game, by sending flowers, By sending Valentines.

"For five lang years, and five lang years, I have dwelt in the far countrie, Till that thy mind should be inclined Mair tenderly to me.

"Now thirty years are gane and past, I am come frae a foreign land: I am come to tell thee my love at last - O Ladye, gie me thy hand!"

The ladye she turned not pale nor red, But she smiled a pitiful smile: "Sic' a coortin' as yours, my man," she said "Takes a lang and a weary while!"

And out and laughed the popinjay, A laugh of bitter scorn: "A coortin' done in sic' a way, It ought not to be borne!"

		"In the better days of the art, there didn't exist the art critics." Oscar Wilde

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