Beg Pardon, Lords, a translation by W.D.Snodgrass of
Escotatz, mas no say que s’es by Raimbaut d’Aurenga

Beg pardon, Lords, but who knows what
Kind of a song this is I’ll sing?
Ballad, or blues or protest song?
What do you call this sort of thing?
How can you say what’s right or wrong?
How can I end it warranting
	that nobody ever saw one like it, made by man or woman, in this century or the one just past?

You’ll try to tell me I’m insane
But that won’t make me break my vow
To speak my feelings clear and plain.
Don’t blame me if I can’t see how
This wide world could be worth one grain
Compared to things I see right now.
	I’ll tell you why, too: if I started this thing and couldn’t bring it off, you’d think I’m an idiot. Id rather have six cents in one hand than a thousand suns(unit of money) in the sky.

No friends of mine need ever fear
They’ll anger me by things they’ve done;
If they can’t help me now, this year,
They can relieve me later on —-
Still, she defeats and cheat me here
More ardently than anyone —-
	I say all this because of a lady who keeps me hanging on, with sweet talk and lots of waiting. My Lords, can she do me any good?

It’s been a full four months or more —-
Yes, but a thousand year seem less —-
Since she gave in to me and swore
She’d give what I long to possess.
My heart’s your prisoner, therefore,
Lady, sweeten my bitterness.
	God help me! In nomine patri et filii et spiritus sancti! Lady, what’s coming off? (orig: Aiso, que sera, domna?)

You make me rage, make me cavort;
You make me write songs fierce with glee;
I’ve left three ladies of a sort
Who had no peer but you, Lady.
For these mad love songs through the court
Crooner’s (Orig Joglar) the name they’re calling me.
	Lady, do just anything you please with me — - like Lady Emma with the shoulder bone(other trans.=sword): she stuck it in just anyplace it pleased her.

Here’s where I’ll end my What’s its Name
Since that’s that label I’ve devised;
No other song sound much the same;
That’s how I’ll have the thing baptized.
You’ll like it best if you declaim
The whole thing once it’s memorized.
	And if anybody ever asks you who make this thing, just say it’s a man who knows how to do lots of things, and do them right just any time he wants to.




My joke with this poem is since Raimbaut says he doesn’t know what 
kind of a song it is, I keep switching tunes. Hopefully you 
recognized most of them. If people ask, I can add a list.