PEER
Come up with you, Grane, my trotter!
In the castle the throng is great;
they bustle and swarm to the gateway.
Peer Gynt and his mother are here!
What say you, Master Saint Peter?
Shall mother not enter in?
You may search a long time, I tell you,
ere you find such an honest old soul.
Myself I don’t want to speak of;
I can turn at the castle gate.
If you’ll treat me, I’ll take it kindly;
if not, I’ll go off just as pleased.
I have made up as many flim-flams
as the devil at the pulpit-desk,
and called my old mother a hen, too,
because she would cackle and crow.