Lord Lovell he stood at his own front door,
Seeking the hole for the key;
His hat was wrecked, and his trousers bore
A rent across either knee.
When down came the beauteous Lady Jane
In fair white draperie.
‘Oh, where have you been, Lord Lovell?’ she said,
‘Oh, where have you been?’ said she;
‘I have not closed an eye in bed,
And the clock has just struck three.
Who has been standing you on your head
In the ash-barrel, pardie?’
‘I am not drunk, Lad’ Shane,’ he said;
‘And so late it cannot be;
The clock struck one as I enterèd—
I heard it two times or three;
It must be the salmon on which I fed
Has been too many for me.’
‘Go tell your tale, Lord Lovell,’ she said,
‘To the maritime cavalree,
To your grandmother of the hoary head—
To any one but me:
The door is not used to be openèd
With a cigarette for a key.’
This poem is in the public domain.