FullReads

Her answer, according to Pinter, was surprisingly prompt and unconventional; also full and concise:

No; I belong to no young man–
I solemnlye declare!
I mean to live a virging
And still my laurels wear!

Jimmy Nowlett attempts to move an amendment in favour of “maiden”, but is promptly suppressed. It seems that Pinter’s suit has a happy termination, for he is supposed to sing in the character of a “Sailor Bold”, and as he turns to pursue his stroll in “Covent Gar-ar-dings”:

“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!” she cried,
“I love a Sailor Bold!”

“Hong-kore, Pinter! Give us the ‘Golden Glove’, Pinter!”

Thus warmed up, Pinter starts with an explanatory “spoken” to the effect that the song he is about to sing illustrates some of the little ways of woman, and how, no matter what you say or do, she is bound to have her own way in the end; also how, in one instance, she set about getting it.

Hoh!

Now, it’s of a young squoire near Timworth did dwell,
Who courted a nobleman’s daughter so well–

The song has little or nothing to do with the “squire”, except so far as “all friends and relations had given consent,” and–

The troo-soo was ordered–appointed the day,
And a farmer were appointed for to give her away–

which last seemed a most unusual proceeding, considering the wedding was a toney affair; but perhaps there were personal interests–the nobleman might have been hard up, and the farmer backing him. But there was an extraordinary scene in the church, and things got mixed.

For as soon as this maiding this farmer espied:
“Hoh, my heart! Hoh, my heart!
Hoh, my heart!” then she cried.

Hysterics? Anyway, instead of being wed–

This maiden took sick and she went to her bed.

(N.B.–Pinter sticks to ‘virging’.)

Whereupon friends and relations and guests left the house in a body (a strange but perhaps a wise proceeding, after all–maybe they smelt a rat) and left her to recover alone, which she did promptly. And then:

Shirt, breeches, and waistcoat this maiding put on,
And a-hunting she went with her dog and her gun;
She hunted all round where this farmier did dwell,
Because in her own heart she love-ed him well.

The cat’s out of the bag now:

And often she fired, but no game she killed–

which was not surprising–

Till at last the young farmier came into the field–

No wonder. She put it to him straight:

“Oh, why are you not at the wedding?” she cried,
“For to wait on the squoire, and to give him his bride.”

He was as prompt and as delightfully unconventional in his reply as the young lady in Covent Gardings:

“Oh, no! and oh, no! For the truth I must sa-a-y,
I love her too well for to give her a-w-a-a-y!”

which was satisfactory to the disguised “virging”.

“…. and I’d take sword in hand,
And by honour I’d win her if she would command.”

Which was still more satisfactory.

Now this virging, being–
(Jimmy Nowlett: “Maiden, Pinter–” Jim is thrown on a stool and sat on by several diggers.)

Now this maiding, being please-ed to see him so bold,
She gave him her glove that was flowered with gold,

and explained that she found it in his field while hunting around with her dog and her gun. It is understood that he promised to look up the owner. Then she went home and put an advertisement in the local ‘Herald’; and that ad. must have caused considerable sensation. She stated that she had lost her golden glove, and

The young man that finds it and brings it to me,
Hoh! that very young man my husband shall be!

She had a saving clause in case the young farmer mislaid the glove before he saw the ad., and an OLD bloke got holt of it and fetched it along. But everything went all right. The young farmer turned up with the glove. He was a very respectable young farmer, and expressed his gratitude to her for having “honour-ed him with her love.” They were married, and the song ends with a picture of the young farmeress milking the cow, and the young farmer going whistling to plough. The fact that they lived and grafted on the selection proves that I hit the right nail on the head when I guessed, in the first place, that the old nobleman was “stony”.