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!"