|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
O when the porter came up the stair, He's kneeled low upon his knee:
i Won up, won up, ye proud porter, And what makes a' this courtesie ?'—
' O I've been porter at your gates I'm sure this thirty years and three,
But there is a lady stands thereat The fairest I did ever see.'
It' s out then spake the bride's mother, —Aye, and an angry woman was she— '
' Ye might have excepted our bonny bride, And twa or three of our companie.'
' My dame, your daughter 's fair enough,
And aye the fairer mote she be !
But the fairest time that ever she was,
She'll no compare wi' this ladye.
' For on every finger she has a ring, And on the mid-finger she has three,
And as mickle gold she has on her brow 'Would buy an earldome o' land to me.
' And this golden ring that's broken in twa, She sends the half o' this golden ring,
And bids you speak with a lady fair, That out o' prison did you bring.'
won] win, get.