The Way Of Wooing

A maiden sat at her window wide, Pretty enough for a Prince's bride, Yet nobody came to claim her. She sat like a beautiful picture there, With pretty bluebells and roses fair, And jasmine-leaves to frame her. And why she sat there nobody knows; But this she sang as she plucked a rose, The leaves around her strewing: "I've time to lose and power to choose; 'T is not so much the gallant who woos, But the gallant's WAY of wooing!" A lover came riding by awhile, A wealthy lover was he, whose smile Some maids would value greatly - A formal lover, who bowed and bent, With many a high-flown compliment, And cold demeanour stately, "You've still," said she to her suitor stern, "The 'prentice-work of your craft to learn, If thus you come a-cooing. I've time to lose and power to choose; 'T is not so much the gallant who woos, As the gallant's WAY of wooing!" A second lover came ambling by - A timid lad with a frightened eye And a colour mantling highly. He muttered the errand on which he'd come, Then only chuckled and bit his thumb, And simpered, simpered shyly. "No," said the maiden, "go your way; You dare but think what a man would say, Yet dare to come a-suing! I've time to lose and power to choose; 'T is not so much the gallant who woos, As the gallant's WAY of wooing!" A third rode up at a startling pace - A suitor poor, with a homely face - No doubts appeared to bind him. He kissed her lips and he pressed her waist, And off he rode with the maiden, placed On a pillion safe behind him. And she heard the suitor bold confide This golden hint to the priest who tied The knot there's no undoing; With pretty young maidens who can choose, 'T is not so much the gallant who woos, As the gallant's WAY of wooing!"