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THE LANG COORTIN'.
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!"
Wi' that the doggie barked aloud,
And up and doon he ran,
And tugged and strained his chain o' gowd,
All for to bite the man.
"O hush thee, gentle popinjay!
O hush thee, doggie dear!
There is a thing I fain wad say,
It needeth he should hear!"
