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THE LANG COORTIN'.
85
Then sadly spake that ladye fair,
Wi' a frown upon her brow:
"O dearer to me is my sma' doggie
Than a dozen sic' as thou!
"Nae use, nae use for sighs and tears:
Nae use at all to fret:
Sin' ye've bided sae well for thirty years,
Ye may bide a wee langer yet!"
Sadly, sadly he crossed the floor,
And tirled at the pin:
Sadly gaed he through the door
Where sadly he cam' in.
"O gin I had a popinjay,
To fly abune my head,
To tell me what I ought to say,
I had by now been wed.
