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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:24:04 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/4730.txt b/4730.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa35eac --- /dev/null +++ b/4730.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2805 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, by C. J. Dennis + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke + +Author: C. J. Dennis + +Posting Date: September 4, 2009 [EBook #4730] +Release Date: December, 2003 +First Posted: March 8, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SONGS OF A SENTIMENTAL BLOKE *** + + + + +Produced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. + + + + + + + + + +The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke + + +C. J. Dennis + + + + + +To Mr and Mrs J. G. Roberts + + + + + La vie est vaine: + Un peu d'amour, + Un peu de haine... + Et puis--bonjour! + + La vie est breve: + Un peu d'espoir, + Un peu de reve... + Et puis--bonsoir! + + Leon Montenaeken + + + + +Foreword + +My young friend Dennis has honoured me with a request to write +a preface to his book. I think a man can best write a preface +to his own book, provided he knows it is good. Also if he knows +it is bad. + +"The Sentimental Bloke", while running through the Bulletin, +brightened up many dark days for me. He is more perfect +than any alleged "larrikin" or Bottle-O character I have ever +attempted to sketch, not even excepting my own beloved Benno. +Take the first poem for instance, where the Sentimental Bloke +gets the hump. How many men, in how many different parts of +the world--and of how many different languages--have had the +same feeling--the longing for something better--to be something +better? + +The exquisite humour of The Sentimental Bloke speaks for itself; +but there's a danger that its brilliance may obscure the rest, +especially for minds, of all stations, that, apart from sport +and racing, are totally devoted to boiling + + "The cabbitch storks or somethink" + +in this social "pickle found-ery" of ours. + +Doreen stands for all good women, whether down in the smothering +alleys or up in the frozen heights. And so, having introduced +the little woman (they all seem "little" women), I "dips me lid"-- +and stand aside. + +HENRY LAWSON + SYDNEY, 1st September, 1915. + + + + + Contents + + I. A SPRING SONG + The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;... + + II. THE INTRO + 'Er name's Doreen...Well, spare me bloomin' days!... + + III. THE STOUSH O' DAY + Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown--... + + IV. DOREEN + I wish't yeh meant it, Bill." Oh, 'ow me 'eart... + + V. THE PLAY + "Wot's in a name?" she sez... An' then she sighs,... + + VI. THE STROR 'AT COOT + Ar, wimmin! Wot a blinded fool I've been!... + + VII. THE SIREN + She sung a song, an' I sat silent there.... + + VIII. MAR + "'Er pore dear Par," she sez, "'e kept a store";... + + IX. PILOT COVE + "Young friend," 'e sez...Young friend! Well, spare me days!... + + X. HITCHED + "An'--wilt--yeh--take--this--woman--fer--to--be--... + + XI. BEEF TEA + She never magged; she never said no word;... + + XII. UNCLE JIM + "I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez 'e,... + + XIII. THE KID + My son!...Them words, jist like a blessed song,... + + XIV. THE MOOCH O' LIFE + This ev'nin' I was sittin' wiv Doreen,... + + THE GLOSSARY + + + + + + + I. A Spring Song + + + The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat; + Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul; + An' all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet + Is up the pole. + Fer, as the poit sez, me 'eart 'as got + The pip wiv yearnin' fer--I dunno wot. + + I'm crook; me name is Mud; I've done me dash; + Me flamin' spirit's got the flamin' 'ump! + I'm longin' to let loose on somethin' rash.... + Aw, I'm a chump! + I know it; but this blimed ole Springtime craze + Fair outs me, on these dilly, silly days. + + The young green leaves is shootin' on the trees, + The air is like a long, cool swig o' beer, + The bonzer smell o' flow'rs is on the breeze, + An' 'ere's me, 'ere, + Jist moochin' round like some pore, barmy coot, + Of 'ope, an' joy, an' forchin destichoot. + + I've lorst me former joy in gettin' shick, + Or 'eadin' browns; I 'aven't got the 'eart + To word a tom; an', square an' all, + I'm sick of that cheap tart + 'Oo chucks 'er carkis at a feller's 'ead + An' mauls 'im...Ar! I wish't that I wus dead!... + + Ther's little breezes stirrin' in the leaves, + An' sparrers chirpin' 'igh the 'ole day long; + An' on the air a sad, sweet music breaves + A bonzer song-- + A mournful sorter choon thet gits a bloke + Fair in the brisket 'ere, an' makes 'im choke ... + + What is the matter wiv me?...I dunno. + I got a sorter yearnin' 'ere inside, + A dead-crook sorter thing that won't let go + Or be denied-- + A feelin' like I want to do a break, + An' stoush creation for some woman's sake. + + The little birds is chirpin' in the nest, + The parks an' gardings is a bosker sight, + Where smilin' tarts walks up an' down, all dressed + In clobber white. + An', as their snowy forms goes steppin' by, + It seems I'm seekin' somethin' on the sly. + + Somethin' or someone--I don't rightly know; + But, seems to me, I'm kind er lookin' for + A tart I knoo a 'undred years ago, + Or, maybe, more. + Wot's this I've 'eard them call that thing?...Geewhizz! + Me ideel bit o' skirt! That's wot it is! + + Me ideel tart!... An', bli'me, look at me! + Jist take a squiz at this, an' tell me can + Some square an' honist tom take this to be + 'Er own true man? + Aw, Gawd! I'd be as true to 'er, I would + As straight an' stiddy as...Ar, wot's the good? + + Me, that 'as done me stretch fer stoushin' Johns, + An' spen's me leisure gittin' on the shick, + An' 'arf me nights down there, in Little Lon., + Wiv Ginger Mick, + Jist 'eadin' 'em, an' doing in me gilt. + Tough luck! I s'pose it's 'ow a man is built. + + It's 'ow Gawd builds a bloke; but don't it 'urt + When 'e gits yearnin's fer this 'igher life, + On these Spring mornin's, watchin' some sweet skirt + Some fucher wife-- + Go sailin' by, an' turnin' on his phiz + The glarssy eye--fer bein' wot 'e is. + + + I've watched 'em walkin' in the gardings 'ere + Cliners from orfices an' shops an' such; + The sorter skirts I dursn't come too near, + Or dare to touch. + An, when I see the kind er looks they carst... + Gorstrooth! Wot is the use o' me, I arst? + + Wot wus I slung 'ere for? An wot's the good + Of yearnin' after any ideel tart?... + Ar, if a bloke wus only understood! + 'E's got a 'eart: + 'E's got a soul inside 'im, poor or rich. + But wot's the use, when 'Eaven's crool'd 'is pitch? + + I tells meself some day I'll take a pull + An' look eround fer some good, stiddy job, + An' cut the push fer good an' all; I'm full + Of that crook mob! + An', in some Spring the fucher 'olds in store, + I'll cop me prize an' long in vain no more. + + The little winds is stirrin' in the trees, + Where little birds is chantin' lovers' lays; + The music of the sorft an' barmy breeze... + Aw, spare me days! + If this 'ere dilly feelin' doesn't stop + I'll lose me block an' stoush some flamin' cop! + + + + II. The Intro + + + 'Er name's Doreen ...Well spare me bloomin' days! + You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick! + Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways, + An' 'as a name for smoogin' in our click! + I just lines up an' tips the saucy wink. + But strike! The way she piled on dawg! Yer'd think + A bloke was givin' back-chat to the Queen.... + 'Er name's Doreen. + + I seen 'er in the markit first uv all, + Inspectin' brums at Steeny Isaacs' stall. + I backs me barrer in--the same ole way-- + An' sez, "Wot O! It's been a bonzer day. + 'Ow is it fer a walk?"...Oh, 'oly wars! + The sorter look she gimme! Jest becors + I tried to chat 'er, like you'd make a start + Wiv ANY tart. + + An' I kin take me oaf I wus perlite. + An' never said no word that wasn't right, + An' never tried to maul 'er, or to do + A thing yeh might call crook. Ter tell yeh true, + I didn't seem to 'ave the nerve--wiv 'er. + I felt as if I couldn't go that fur, + An' start to sling off chiack like I used... + Not INTRAJUICED! + + Nex' time I sighted 'er in Little Bourke, + Where she was in a job. I found'er lurk + Wus pastin' labels in a pickle joint, + A game that--any'ow, that ain't the point. + Once more I tried ter chat 'er in the street, + But, bli'me! Did she turn me down a treat! + The way she tossed 'er 'cad an' swished 'er skirt! + Oh, it wus dirt! + + A squarer tom, I swear, I never seen, + In all me natchril, than this 'ere Doreen. + It wer'n't no guyver neither; fer I knoo + That any other bloke 'ad Buckley's 'oo + Tried fer to pick 'er up. Yes, she was square. + She jist sailed by an' lef' me standin' there + Like any mug. Thinks I, "I'm out er luck," + An' done a duck + + Well, I dunno. It's that way wiv a bloke. + If she'd ha' breasted up ter me an' spoke, + I'd thort 'er jist a commin bit er fluff, + An' then fergot about 'er, like enough. + It's jest like this. The tarts that's 'ard ter get + Makes you all 'ot to chase 'em, an' to let + The cove called Cupid get an 'ammer-lock; + An' lose yer block. + + I know a bloke 'oo knows a bloke 'oo toils + In that same pickle found-ery. ('E boils + The cabbitch storks or somethink.) Anyway, + I gives me pal the orfis fer to say + 'E 'as a sister in the trade 'oo's been + Out uv a jorb, an' wants ter meet Doreen; + Then we kin get an intro, if we've luck. + 'E sez, "Ribuck." + + O' course we worked the oricle; you bet! + But, 'struth, I ain't recovered frum it yet! + 'Twas on a Saturdee, in Colluns Street, + An'--quite by accident, o' course--we meet. + Me pal 'e trots 'er up an' does the toff + 'E allus wus a bloke fer showin' off. + "This 'ere's Doreen," 'e sez. "This 'ere's the Kid." + I dips me lid. + + "This 'ere's Doreen," 'e sez. I sez "Good day." + An', bli'me, I 'ad nothin' more ter say! + I couldn't speak a word, or meet 'er eye. + Clean done me block! I never been so shy. + Not since I was a tiny little cub, + An' run the rabbit to the corner pub-- + Wot time the Summer days wus dry an' 'ot-- + Fer me ole pot. + + Me! that 'as barracked tarts, an' torked an' larft, + An' chucked orf at 'em like a phonergraft! + Gorstrooth! I seemed to lose me pow'r o' speech. + But, 'er! Oh, strike me pink! She is a peach! + The sweetest in the barrer! Spare me days, + I carn't describe that cliner's winnin' ways. + The way she torks! 'Er lips! 'Er eyes! 'Er hair!... + Oh, gimme air! + + I dunno 'ow I done it in the end. + I reckerlect I arst ter be 'er friend; + An' tried ter play at 'andies in the park, + A thing she wouldn't sight. Aw, it's a nark! + I gotter swear when I think wot a mug + I must 'a' seemed to 'er. But still I 'ug + That promise that she give me fer the beach. + The bonzer peach! + + Now, as the poit sez, the days drag by + On ledding feet. I wish't they'd do a guy. + I dunno'ow I 'ad the nerve ter speak, + An' make that meet wiv 'er fer Sundee week! + But strike! It's funny wot a bloke'll do + When 'e's all out...She's gorn, when I come-to. + I'm yappin' to me cobber uv me mash.... + I've done me dash! + + 'Er name's Doreen....An' me-that thort I knoo + The ways uv tarts, an' all that smoogin' game! + An' so I ort; fer ain't I known a few? + Yet some'ow...I dunno. It ain't the same. + I carn't tell WOT it is; but, all I know, + I've dropped me bundle--an' I'm glad it's so. + Fer when I come ter think uv wot I been.... + 'Er name's Doreen. + + + + III. The Stoush o' Day + + + Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown-- + Flown like the smoke of some inchanted fag; + Since dear Doreen, the sweetest tart I've known, + Passed me the jolt that made me sky the rag. + An' ev'ry golding day floats o'er a chap + Like a glad dream of some celeschil scrap. + + Refreshed wiv sleep Day to the mornin' mill + Comes jauntily to out the nigger, Night. + Trained to the minute, confident in skill, + 'E swaggers in the East, chock-full o' skite; + Then spars a bit, an' plugs Night on the point. + Out go the stars; an' Day 'as jumped the joint. + + The sun looks up, an' wiv a cautious stare, + Like some crook keekin' o'er a winder sill + To make dead cert'in everythink is square, + 'E shoves 'is boko o'er an Eastern 'ill, + Then rises, wiv 'is dial all a-grin, + An' sez, "'Ooray! I knoo that we could win!" + + Sure of 'is title then, the champeen Day + Begins to put on dawg among 'is push, + An', as he mooches on 'is gaudy way, + Drors tribute from each tree an' flow'r an' bush. + An', w'ile 'e swigs the dew in sylvan bars, + The sun shouts insults at the sneakin' stars. + + Then, lo! the push o' Day rise to applaud; + An' all 'is creatures clamour at 'is feet + Until 'e thinks'imself a little gawd, + An' swaggers on an' kids 'imself a treat. + The w'ile the lurkin' barrackers o' Night + Sneak in retreat an' plan another fight. + + On thro' the hours, triumphant, proud an' fit, + The champeen marches on 'is up'ard way, + Till, at the zenith, bli'me! 'E-is-IT! + And all the world bows to the Boshter Day. + The jealous Night speeds ethergrams thro' space + 'Otly demandin' terms, an' time, an' place. + + A wile the champeen scorns to make reply; + 'E's taken tickets on 'is own 'igh worth; + Puffed up wiv pride, an' livin' mighty 'igh, + 'E don't admit that Night is on the earth. + But as the hours creep on 'e deigns to state + 'E'll fight for all the earth an' 'arf the gate. + + Late afternoon...Day feels 'is flabby arms, + An' tells 'imself 'e don't seem quite the thing. + The 'omin' birds shriek clamorous alarms; + An' Night creeps stealthily to gain the ring. + But see! The champeen backs an' fills, becos + 'E doesn't feel the Boshter Bloke 'e was. + + Time does a bunk as us-u-al, nor stays + A single instant, e'en at Day's be'est. + Alas, the 'eavy-weight's 'igh-livin' ways + 'As made 'im soft, an' large around the vest. + 'E sez 'e's fat inside; 'e starts to whine; + 'E sez 'e wants to dror the colour line. + + Relentless nigger Night crawls thro' the ropes, + Advancin' grimly on the quakin' Day, + Whose noisy push, shorn of their 'igh-noon 'opes, + Wait, 'ushed an' anxious, fer the comin' fray. + And many lusty barrackers of noon + Desert 'im one by one--traitors so soon! + + 'E's out er form! 'E 'asn't trained enough! + They mark their sickly champeen on the stage, + An' narked, the sun, 'is backer, in a huff, + Sneaks outer sight, red in the face wiv rage. + W'ile gloomy roosters, they 'oo made the morn + Ring wiv 'is praises, creep to bed forlorn. + + + All faint an' groggy grows the beaten Day; + 'E staggers drunkenly about the ring; + An owl 'oots jeerin'ly across the way, + An' bats come out to mock the fallin' King. + Now, wiv a jolt, Night spreads 'im on the floor, + An' all the west grows ruddy wiv 'is gore. + + A single, vulgar star leers from the sky + An' in derision, rudely mutters, "Yah!" + The moon, Night's conkerbine, comes glidin' by + An' laughs a 'eartless, silvery "Ha-ha!" + Scorned, beaten, Day gives up the 'opeless fight, + An' drops 'is bundle in the lap o' Night. + + * * * * * * * * + + So goes each day, like some celeschil mill, + E'er since I met that shyin' little peach. + 'Er bonzer voice! I 'ear its music still, + As when she guv that promise fer the beach. + An', square an' all, no matter 'ow yeh start, + The commin end of most of us is--Tart. + + + IV. Doreen + + + "I wish't yeh menat it, Bill." Oh, 'ow me 'eart + Went out to 'er that evnin' on the beach. + I knew she weren't no ordinary tart, + My little peach! + + To 'ear 'er voice! Its gentle sorter tone, + Like soft dream-music of some Dago band. + An' me all out; an' 'oldin' in me own + 'Er little 'and. + An' 'ow she blushed! O, strike! it was divine + The way she raised 'er shinin' eyes to mine. + + 'Er eyes! Soft in the moon; such BOSHTER eyes! + An' when they sight a bloke...O, spare me days! + 'E goes all loose inside; such glamour lies + In 'er sweet gaze. + It makes 'im all ashamed uv wot 'e's been + To look inter the eyes of my Doreen. + + * * * * + + The wet sands glistened, an' the gleamin' moon + Shone yeller on the sea, all streakin' down. + A band was playin' some soft, dreamy choon; + An' up the town + We 'eard the distant tram-cars whir an' clash. + An' there I told Per 'ow I'd done me dash. + + "I wish't yeh meant it." 'Struth! And did I, fair? + A bloke 'ud be a dawg to kid a skirt + Like her. An' me well knowin' she was square. + It 'ud be dirt! + 'E'd be no man to point wiv her, an' kid. + I meant it honest; an' she knoo I did. + + She knoo. I've done me block in on her, straight. + A cove 'as got to think some time in life + An' get some decent tart, ere it's too late, + To be 'is wife. + But, Gawd! 'Oo would 'a' thort it could 'a' been + My luck to strike the likes of Per?...Doreen! + + Aw, I can stand their chuckin' off, I can. + It's 'ard; an' I'd delight to take 'em on. + The dawgs! But it gets that way wiv a man + When 'e's fair gone. + She'll sight no stoush; an' so I have to take + Their mag, an' do a duck fer her sweet sake. + + Fer 'er sweet sake I've gone and chucked it clean: + The pubs an' schools an' all that leery game. + Fer when a bloke 'as come to know Doreen, + It ain't the same. + There's 'igher things, she sez, for blokes to do. + An' I am 'arf believin' that it's true. + + Yes, 'igher things--that wus the way she spoke; + An' when she looked at me I sorter felt + That bosker feelin' that comes o'er a bloke, + An' makes 'im melt; + Makes 'im all 'ot to maul 'er, an' to shove + 'Is arms about'er...Bli'me? but it's love! + + That's wot it is. An' when a man 'as grown + Like that 'e gets a sorter yearn inside + To be a little 'ero on 'is own; + An' see the pride + Glow in the eyes of 'er 'e calls 'is queen; + An' 'ear 'er say 'e is a shine champeen. + + "I wish't yeh meant it," I can 'ear 'er yet, + My bit o' fluff! The moon was shinin' bright, + Turnin' the waves all yeller where it set-- + A bonzer night! + The sparklin' sea all sorter gold an' green; + An' on the pier the band--O, 'Ell!... Doreen! + + + + V. The Play + + + "Wots in a name?" she sez...An' then she sighs, + An' clasps 'er little 'ands, an' rolls 'er eyes. + "A rose," she sez, "be any other name + Would smell the same. + Oh, w'erefore art you Romeo, young sir? + Chuck yer ole pot, an' change yer moniker!" + + Doreen an' me, we bin to see a show-- + The swell two-dollar touch. Bong tong, yeh know. + A chair apiece wiv velvit on the seat; + A slap-up treat. + The drarmer's writ be Shakespeare, years ago, + About a barmy goat called Romeo. + + "Lady, be yonder moon I swear!" sez 'e. + An' then 'e climbs up on the balkiney; + An' there they smooge a treat, wiv pretty words + Like two love-birds. + I nudge Doreen. She whispers, "Ain't it grand!" + 'Er eyes is shinin'; an' I squeeze 'er 'and. + + "Wot's in a name?" she sez. 'Struth, I dunno. + Billo is just as good as Romeo. + She may be Juli-er or Juli-et-- + 'E loves 'er yet. + If she's the tart 'e wants, then she's 'is queen, + Names never count...But ar, I like "Doreen!" + + A sweeter, dearer sound I never 'eard; + Ther's music 'angs around that little word, + Doreen!...But wot was this I starts to say + About the play? + I'm off me beat. But when a bloke's in love + 'Is thorts turns 'er way, like a 'omin' dove. + + This Romeo 'e's lurkin' wiv a crew-- + A dead tough crowd o' crooks--called Montague. + 'Is cliner's push--wot's nicknamed Capulet-- + They 'as 'em set. + Fair narks they are, jist like them back-street clicks, + Ixcep' they fights wiv skewers 'stid o' bricks. + + Wot's in a name? Wot's in a string o' words? + They scraps in ole Verona with the'r swords, + An' never give a bloke a stray dog's chance, + An' that's Romance. + But when they deals it out wiv bricks an' boots + In Little Lon., they're low, degraded broots. + + Wot's jist plain stoush wiv us, right 'ere to-day, + Is "valler" if yer fur enough away. + Some time, some writer bloke will do the trick + Wiv Ginger Mick, + Of Spadger's Lane. 'E'LL be a Romeo, + When 'e's bin dead five 'undred years or so. + + Fair Juli-et, she gives 'er boy the tip. + Sez she: "Don't sling that crowd o' mine no lip; + An' if you run agin a Capulet, + Jist do a get." + 'E swears 'e's done wiv lash; 'e'll chuck it clean. + (Same as I done when I first met Doreen.) + + They smooge some more at that. Ar, strike me blue! + It gimme Joes to sit an' watch them two! + 'E'd break away an' start to say good-bye, + An' then she'd sigh + "Ow, Ro-me-o!" an' git a strangle-holt, + An' 'ang around 'im like she feared 'e'd bolt. + + Nex' day 'e words a gorspil cove about + A secret wedding; 'an they plan it out. + 'E spouts a piece about 'ow 'e's bewitched: + Then they git 'itched. + Now, 'ere's the place where I fair git the pip! + She's 'is ofr keeps, an' yet 'e lets 'er slip! + + Ar! but'e makes me sick! A fair gazob! + 'E's jist the glarsey on the soulful sob, + 'E'll sigh and spruik, an' 'owl a love-sick vow-- + (The silly cow!) + But when 'e's got 'er, spliced an' on the straight + 'E crools the pitch, an' tries to kid it's Fate. + + Aw! Fate me foot! Instid of slopin' soon + As 'e was wed, off on 'is 'oneymoon, + 'Im an' 'is cobber, called Mick Curio, + They 'ave to go + An' mix it wiv that push o' Capulets. + They look fer trouble; an' it's wot they gets. + + A tug named Tyball (cousin to the skirt) + Sprags 'em an' makes a start to sling off dirt. + Nex' minnit there's a reel ole ding-dong go-- + 'Arf round or so. + Mick Curio, 'e gets it in the neck, + "Ar rats!" 'e sez, an' passes in 'is check. + + Quite natchril, Romeo gits wet as 'ell. + "It's me or you!" 'e 'owls, an' wiv a yell, + Plunks Tyball through the gizzard wiv 'is sword, + 'Ow I ongcored! + "Put in the boot!" I sez. "Put in the boot!" + "'Ush!" sez Doreen..."Shame!" sez some silly coot. + + Then Romeo, 'e dunno wot to do. + The cops gits busy, like they allwiz do, + An' nose around until 'e gits blue funk + An' does a bunk. + They wants 'is tart to wed some other guy. + "Ah, strike!" she sez. "I wish that I could die!" + + Now, this 'ere gorspil bloke's a fair shrewd 'ead. + Sez 'e "I'll dope yeh, so they'll THINK yer dead." + (I tips 'e was a cunnin' sort, wot knoo + A thing or two.) + She takes 'is knock-out drops, up in 'er room: + They think she's snuffed, an' plant 'er in 'er tomb. + + Then things gits mixed a treat an' starts to whirl. + 'Ere's Romeo comes back an' finds 'is girl + Tucked in 'er little coffing, cold an' stiff, + An' in a jiff, + 'E swallows lysol, throws a fancy fit, + 'Ead over turkey, an' 'is soul 'as flit. + + Then Juli-et wakes up an' sees 'im there, + Turns on the water-works an' tears 'er 'air, + "Dear love," she sez, "I cannot live alone!" + An' wiv a moan, + She grabs 'is pockit knife, an' ends 'er cares... + _"Peanuts or lollies!_" sez a boy upstairs. + + + + VI. The Stror 'at Coot + + + Ar, wimmin! Wot a blinded fool I've been! + I arsts meself, wot else could I ixpeck? + I done me block complete on this Doreen, + An' now me 'eart is broke, me life's a wreck! + The dreams I dreamed, the dilly thorts I thunk + Is up the pole, an' joy 'as done a bunk. + + Wimmin! O strike! I orter known the game! + Their tricks is crook, their arts is all dead snide. + The 'ole world over tarts is all the same; + All soft an' smilin' wiv no 'eart inside. + But she fair doped me wiv 'er winnin' ways, + Then crooled me pitch fer all me mortal days. + + They're all the same! A man 'as got to be + Stric' master if 'e wants to snare 'em sure. + 'E 'as to take a stand an' let 'em see + That triflin' is a thing'e won't indure. + 'E wants to show 'em that 'e 'olds command, + So they will smooge an' feed out of 'is 'and. + + 'E needs to make 'em feel 'e is the boss, + An' kid 'e's careless uv the joys they give. + 'E 'as to make 'em think 'e'll feel no loss + To part wiv any tart 'e's trackin' wiv. + That all their pretty ways is crook pretence + Is plain to any bloke wiv common-sense. + + But when the birds is nestin' in the spring, + An' when the soft green leaves is in the bud, + 'E drops 'is bundle to some fluffy thing. + 'E pays 'er 'omage--an' 'is name is Mud. + She plays wiv'im an' kids 'im on a treat, + Until she 'as 'im crawlin' at 'er feet. + + An' then, when 'e's fair orf 'is top wiv love, + When she 'as got 'im good an' 'ad 'er fun, + She slings 'im over like a carst-orf glove, + To let the other tarts see wot she's done. + All vanity, deceit an' 'eartless kid! + I orter known; an', spare me days, I did! + + I knoo. But when I looked into 'er eyes-- + Them shinin' eyes o' blue all soft wiv love + Wiv MIMIC love--they seemed to 'ipnertize. + I wus content to place 'er 'igh above. + I wus content to make of 'er a queen; + An' so she seemed them days...O, 'struth!...Doreen! + + I knoo. But when I stroked 'er glossy 'air + Wiv rev'rint 'ands, 'er cheek pressed close to mine, + Me lonely life seemed robbed of all its care; + I dreams me dreams, an' 'ope begun to shine. + An' when she 'eld 'er lips fer me to kiss... + Ar, wot's the use? I'm done wiv all o' this! + + Wimmin!...Oh, I ain't jealous! Spare me days! + Me? Jealous uv a knock-kneed coot like that! + 'Im! Wiv 'is cute stror 'at an' pretty ways! + I'd be a mug to squeal or whip the cat. + I'm glad, I am--glad 'cos I know I'm free! + There ain't no call to tork o' jealousy. + + I tells meself I'm well out o' the game; + Fer look, I mighter married 'er-an' then.... + Ar strike! 'Er voice wus music when my name + Wus on 'er lips on them glad ev'nin's when + We useter meet. An' then to think she'd go... + No, I ain't jealous--but--Ar, I dunno! + + I took a derry on this stror 'at coot + First time I seen 'im dodgin' round Doreen. + 'Im, wiv 'is giddy tie an' Yankee soot, + Ferever yappin' like a tork-machine + About "The Hoffis" where 'e 'ad a grip.... + The way 'e smiled at 'er give me the pip! + + She sez I stoushed 'im, when I promised fair + To chuck it, even to a friendly spar. + Stoushed 'im! I never roughed 'is pretty 'air! + I only spanked 'im gentle, fer 'is mar. + If I'd 'a' jabbed 'im once, there would 'a' been + An inquest; an' I sez so to Doreen. + + I mighter took an' cracked 'im in the street, + When she was wiv 'im there lars' Fridee night. + But don't I keep me temper when we met? + An' don't I raise me lid an' act perlite? + I only jerks me elbow in 'is ribs, + To give the gentle office to 'is nibs. + + Stoushed 'im! I owns I met 'im on the quiet, + An' worded 'im about a small affair; + An' when 'e won't put up 'is 'ands to fight-- + ('E sez, "Fer public brawls 'e didn't care")-- + I lays 'im 'cross me knee, the mother's joy, + An' smacks 'im 'earty, like a naughty boy. + + An' now Doreen she sez I've broke me vow, + An' mags about this coot's pore, "wounded pride." + An' then, o' course, we 'as a ding-dong row, + Wiv 'ot an' stormy words on either side. + She sez I done it outer jealousy, + An' so, we parts fer ever--'er an' me. + + Me jealous? Jealous of that cross-eyed cow! + I set 'im 'cos I couldn't sight 'is face. + 'Is yappin' fair got on me nerves, some'ow. + I couldn't stand 'im 'angin' round 'er place. + A coot like that!...But it don't matter much, + She's welkim to 'im if she fancies such. + + I swear I'll never track wiv 'er no more; + I'll never look on 'er side o' the street-- + Unless she comes an' begs me pardin for + Them things she said to me in angry 'eat. + She can't ixpeck fer me to smooge an' crawl. + I ain't at ANY woman's beck an' call. + + Wimmin! I've took a tumble to their game. + I've got the 'ole bang tribe o' cliners set! + The 'ole world over they are all the same: + Crook to the core the bunch of 'em--an' yet + We could 'a' been that 'appy, 'er an' me... + But, wot's it matter? Ain't I glad I'm free? + + A bloke wiv commin-sense 'as got to own + There's little 'appiness in married life. + The smoogin' game is better left alone, + Fer tarts is few that makes the ideel wife. + An' them's the sort that loves wivout disguise, + An' thinks the sun shines in their 'usban's' eyes. + + But when the birds is matin' in the spring, + An' when the tender leaves begin to bud, + A feelin' comes--a dilly sorter thing + That seems to sorter swamp 'im like a flood. + An' when the fever 'ere inside 'im burns, + Then freedom ain't the thing fer wot 'e yearns. + + But I 'ave chucked it all. An' yet--I own + I dreams me dreams when soft Spring breezes stirs; + An' often, when I'm moonin' 'ere alone, + A lispin' maid, wiv 'air an' eyes like 'ers, + 'Oo calls me "dad," she climbs upon me knee, + An' yaps 'er pretty baby tork to me. + + I sorter see a little 'ouse, it seems, + Wiv someone waitin' for me at the gate... + Ar, where's the sense in dreamin' barmy dreams, + I've dreamed before, and nearly woke too late. + Sich 'appiness could never last fer long, + We're strangers--'less she owns that she was wrong. + + To call 'er back I'll never lift a 'and; + She'll never 'ear frum me by word or sign. + Per'aps, some day, she'll come to understand + The mess she's made o' this 'ere life o' mine. + Oh, I ain't much to look at, I admit. + But'im! The knock-kneed, swivel-eyed misfit?... + + + + VII. The Siren + + + She sung a song; an' I sat silent there, + Wiv bofe 'ands grippin' 'ard on me chair; + Me 'eart, that yesterdee I thort wus broke + Wiv 'umpin sich a 'eavy load o' care, + Come swelling in me throat like I would choke. + I felt 'ot blushes climbin' to me 'air. + + 'Twas like that feelin' when the Spring wind breaves + Sad music in the sof'ly rustlin' leaves. + An' when a bloke sits down an' starts to chew + Crook thorts, wivout quite knowin' why 'e grieves + Fer things 'e's done 'e didn't ort to do-- + Fair winded wiv the 'eavy sighs 'e 'eaves. + + She sung a song; an' orl at once I seen + The kind o' crool an' 'eartless broot I been. + In ev'ry word I read it like a book-- + The slanter game I'd played wiv my Doreen-- + I 'eard it in 'er song; an' in 'er look + I seen wot made me feel fair rotten mean. + + Poor, 'urt Doreen! My tender bit o' fluff! + Ar, men don't understand; they're fur too rough; + Their ways is fur too coarse wiv lovin' tarts; + They never gives 'em symperthy enough. + They treats 'em 'arsh; they tramples on their 'earts, + Becos their own crool 'earts is leather-tough. + + She sung a song; an' orl them bitter things + That chewin' over lovers' quarrils brings + Guv place to thorts of sorrer an' remorse. + Like when some dilly punter goes an' slings + 'Is larst, lone deener on some stiffened 'orse, + An' learns them vain regrets wot 'urts an' stings. + + 'Twas at a beano where I lobs along + To drown them memories o' fancied wrong. + I swears I never knoo that she'd be there. + But when I met 'er eye--O, 'struth, 'twas strong! + 'Twas bitter strong, that jolt o' dull despair! + 'Er look o' scorn!...An' then, she sung a song. + + The choon was one o' them sad, mournful things + That ketch yeh in the bellers 'ere, and brings + Tears to yer eyes. The words was uv a tart + 'Oo's trackin' wiv a silly coot 'oo slings + 'Er love aside, an' breaks 'er tender 'eart.... + But 'twasn't that; it was the way she sings. + + To 'ear 'er voice!...A bloke 'ud be a log + 'Oo kep' 'is block. Me mind wus in a fog + Of sorrer for to think 'ow I wus wrong; + Ar, I 'ave been a fair ungrateful 'og! + The feelin' that she put into that song + 'Ud melt the 'eart-strings of a chiner dog. + + I listens wiv me 'eart up in me throat; + I drunk in ev'ry word an' ev'ry note. + Tears trembles in 'er voice when she tells 'ow + That tart snuffed out becos 'e never wrote. + An' then I seen 'ow I wus like that cow. + Wiv suddin shame me guilty soul wus smote. + + Doreen she never looked my way; but stood + 'Arf turned away, an' beefed it out reel good, + Until she sang that bit about the grave; + "Too late 'e learned 'e 'ad misunderstood!" + An' then--Gorstrooth! The pleadin' look she gave + Fair in me face 'ud melt a'eart o' wood. + + I dunno 'ow I seen that evenin' thro'. + They muster thort I was 'arf shick, I knoo. + But I 'ad 'urt Doreen wivout no call; + I seen me dooty, wot I 'ad to do. + O, strike! I could 'a' blubbed before 'em all! + But I sat tight, an' never cracked a boo. + + An' when at larst the tarts they makes a rise, + A lop-eared coot wiv 'air down to 'is eyes + 'E 'ooks on to Doreen, an' starts to roam + Fer 'ome an' muvver. I lines up an' cries, + "'An's orf! I'm seein' this 'ere cliner 'ome!" + An' there we left 'im, gapin' wiv surprise. + + She never spoke; she never said no word; + But walked beside me like she never 'eard. + I swallers 'ard, an' starts to coax an' plead, + I sez I'm dead ashamed o' wot's occurred. + She don't reply; she never takes no 'eed; + Jist stares before 'er like a startled bird. + + I tells 'er, never can no uvver tart + Be 'arf wot she is, if we 'ave to part. + I tells 'er that me life will be a wreck. + It ain't no go. But when I makes a start + To walk away, 'er arms is roun' me neck. + "Ah, Kid!" she sobs. "Yeh nearly broke me 'eart!" + + I dunno wot I done or wot I said. + But 'struth! I'll not forgit it till I'm dead-- + That night when 'ope back in me brisket lobs: + 'Ow my Doreen she lays 'er little 'ead + Down on me shoulder 'ere, an' sobs an' sobs; + An' orl the lights goes sorter blurred an' red. + + Say, square an' all--It don't seem right, some'ow, + To say such things; but wot I'm feelin' now + 'As come at times, I s'pose, to uvver men + When you 'ave 'ad a reel ole ding-dong row, + Say, ain't it bonzer makin' up agen? + Straight wire, it's almost worth...Ar, I'm a cow! + + To think I'd ever seek to 'arm a 'air + Of 'er dear 'ead agen! My oath, I swear + No more I'll roust on 'er in angry 'eat! + But still, she never seemed to me so fair; + She never wus so tender or so sweet + As when she smooged beneath the lamplight there. + + She's never been so lovin' wiv 'er gaze; + So gentle wiv 'er pretty wimmin's ways. + I tells 'er she's me queen, me angel, too. + "Ah, no, I ain't no angel, Kid," she says. + "I'm jist a woman, an' I loves yeh true! + An' so I'll love yeh all me mortal days!" + + She sung a song....'Ere, in me barmy style, + I sets orl tarts; for in me hour o' trile + Me soul was withered be a woman's frown, + An' broodin' care come roostin' on me dile. + She sung a song....Me 'eart, wiv woe carst down, + Wus raised to 'Eaven be a woman's smile. + + + + VIII. Mar + + + "'Er pore dear par," she sez, "'e kept a store"; + An' then she weeps an' stares 'ard at the floor. + "'Twas thro' 'is death," she sez, "we wus rejuiced + To this," she sez...An' then she weeps some more. + + "'Er Par," she sez, "me poor late 'usband, kept + An 'ay an' corn store. 'E'd no faults ixcept + 'Im fallin' 'eavy orf a load o' charf + W'ich--killed 'im--on the---" 'Struth! But 'ow she wept. + + She blows 'er nose an' sniffs. "'E would 'a' made" + She sez "a lot of money in the trade. + But, 'im took orf so sudden-like, we found + 'E 'adn't kept 'is life insurince paid. + + "To think," she sez, "a child o' mine should be + Rejuiced to workin' in a factory! + If 'er pore Par 'e 'adn't died," she sobs... + I sez, "It wus a bit o' luck for me." + + Then I gits red as 'ell, "That is--I mean," + I sez, "I mighter never met Doreen + If 'e 'ad not"--an' 'ere I lose me block--"I 'ope," + I sez, "'e snuffed it quick and clean." + + An' that wus 'ow I made me first deboo. + I'd dodged it cunnin' fer a month or two. + Doreen she sez, "You'll 'ave to meet my Mar, + SOME day," she sez. An' so I seen it thro'. + + I'd pictered some stern female in a cap + Wot puts the fear o' Gawd into a chap. + An' 'ere she wus, aweepin' in 'er tea + An' drippin' moistcher like a leaky tap. + + Two dilly sorter dawgs made outer delf + Stares 'ard at me frum orf the mantelshelf. + I seemed to symperthise wiv them there pups; + I felt so stiff an' brittle-like meself. + + Clobber? Me trosso, 'ead to foot, wus noo-- + Got up regardless, fer this interview. + Stiff shirt, a Yankee soot split up the back, + A tie wiv yeller spots an' stripes o' blue. + + Me cuffs kep' playin' wiv me nervis fears + Me patent leathers nearly brought the tears + An' there I sits wiv, "Yes, mum. Thanks. Indeed?" + Me stand-up collar sorin' orf me ears. + + "Life's 'ard," she sez, an' then she brightens up. + "Still, we 'ave alwus 'ad our bite and sup. + Doreen's been SICH a help; she 'as indeed. + Some more tea, Willy? 'Ave another cup." + + Willy! O 'ell! 'Ere wus a flamin' pill! + A moniker that alwus makes me ill. + "If it's the same to you, mum," I replies + "I answer quicker to the name of Bill." + + Up goes 'er 'ands an' eyes, "That vulgar name!" + No, Willy, but it isn't all the same, + My fucher son must be respectable." + "Orright," I sez, "I s'pose it's in the game." + + "Me fucher son," she sez, "right on frum this + Must not take anythink I say amiss. + I know me jooty be me son-in-lor; + So, Willy, come an' give yer Mar a kiss." + + I done it. Tho' I dunno 'ow I did. + "Dear boy," she sez, "to do as you are bid. + Be kind to 'er," she sobs, "my little girl!" + An' then I kiss Doreen. Sez she "Ah Kid!" + + Doreen! Ar 'ow 'er pretty eyes did shine. + No sight on earth or 'Eaving's 'arf so fine, + An' as they looked at me she seemed to say + "I'm proud of 'im, I am, an' 'e is mine." + + There wus a sorter glimmer in 'er eye, + An 'appy, nervis look, 'arf proud, 'arf shy; + I seen 'er in me mind be'ind the cups + In our own little kipsie, bye an' bye. + + An' then when Mar-in-lor an' me began + To tork of 'ouse'old things an' scheme an' plan, + A sudden thort fair jolts me where I live: + "These is my wimmin folk! An' I'm a man!" + + It's wot they calls responsibility. + All of a 'eap that feelin' come to me; + An' somew'ere in me 'ead I seemed to feel + A sneakin' sort o' wish that I was free. + + 'Ere's me 'oo never took no 'eed o' life, + Investin' in a mar-in-lor an' wife: + Someone to battle fer besides meself, + Somethink to love an' shield frum care and strife. + + It makes yeh solim when yeh come to think + Wot love and marridge means. Ar, strike me pink! + It ain't all sighs and kisses. It's yer life. + An' 'ere's me tremblin' on the bloomin' brink. + + "'Er pore dead Par," she sez, an' gulps a sob. + An' then I tells 'er 'ow I got a job, + As storeman down at Jones' printin' joint, + A decent sorter cop at fifty bob. + + Then things get 'ome-like; an' we torks till late, + An' tries to tease Doreen to fix the date, + An' she gits suddin soft and tender-like, + An' cries a bit, when we parts at the gate. + + An' as I'm moochin' 'omeward frum the car + A suddin notion stops me wiv a jar-- + Wot if Doreen, I thinks, should grow to be, + A fat ole weepin' willer like 'er Mar! + + O, 'struth! It won't bear thinkin' of! It's crook! + An' I'm a mean, unfeelin' dawg to look + At things like that. Doreen's Doreen to me, + The sweetest peach on w'ich a man wus shook. + + 'Er "pore dear Par"...I s'pose 'e 'ad 'is day, + An' kissed an' smooged an' loved 'er in 'is way. + An' wed an' took 'is chances like a man-- + But, Gawd, this splicin' racket ain't all play. + + Love is a gamble, an' there ain't no certs. + Some day, I s'pose, I'll git wise to the skirts, + An' learn to take the bitter wiv the sweet... + But, strike me purple! "Willy!" THAT'S wot 'urts. + + + + IX. Pilot Cove + + + Young friend," 'e sez...Young friend! + Well, spare me days! + Yeh'd think I wus 'is own white-'eaded boy-- + The queer ole finger, wiv 'is gentle ways. + "Young friend," 'e sez, "I wish't yeh bofe great joy." + The langwidge that them parson blokes imploy + Fair tickles me. The way'e bleats an' brays! + "Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez...Yes, my Doreen an' me + We're gettin' hitched, all straight an' on the square. + Fer when I torks about the registry-- + O 'oly wars! yeh should 'a' seen 'er stare; + "The registry?" she sez, "I wouldn't dare! + I know a clergyman we'll go an' see"... + "Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez. An' then 'e chats me straight; + An' spouts of death, an' 'ell, an' mortal sins. + "You reckernize this step you contemplate + Is grave? 'e sez. An' I jist stan's an' grins; + Fer when I chips, Doreen she kicks me shins. + "Yes, very 'oly is the married state, + Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez. An' then 'e mags a lot + Of jooty an' the spiritchuil life, + To which I didn't tumble worth a jot. + "I'm sure," 'e sez, "as you will 'ave a wife + 'Oo'll 'ave a noble infl'ince on yer life. + 'Oo is 'er gardjin?" I sez, "'Er ole pot"-- + "Young friend!" 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez. "Oh fix yer thorts on 'igh! + Orl marridges is registered up there! + An' you must cleave unto 'er till yeh die, + An' cherish 'er wiv love an' tender care. + E'n in the days when she's no longer fair + She's still yer wife," 'e sez. "Ribuck," sez I. + "YOUNG FRIEND!" 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez--I sez, "Now, listen 'ere: + This isn't one o' them impetchus leaps. + There ain't no tart a 'undreth part so dear + As 'er. She 'as me 'eart an' soul fer keeps!" + An' then Doreen, she turns away an' weeps; + But 'e jist smiles. "Yer deep in love, 'tis clear, + Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez--an' tears wus in 'is eyes-- + "Strive 'ard. Fer many, many years I've lived. + An' I kin but recall wiv tears an' sighs + The lives of some I've seen in marridge gived." + "My Gawd!" I sez. "I'll strive as no bloke strivved! + Fer don't I know I've copped a bonzer prize?" + "Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez. An' in 'is gentle way, + 'E pats the shoulder of my dear Doreen. + "I've solem'ized grand weddin's in me day, + But 'ere's the sweetest little maid I've seen. + She's fit fer any man, to be 'is queen; + An' you're more forchinit than you kin say, + Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez...A queer ole pilot bloke, + Wiv silver 'air. The gentle way 'e dealt + Wiv 'er, the soft an' kindly way 'e spoke + To my Doreen, 'ud make a statcher melt. + I tell yer, square an' all, I sorter felt + A kiddish kind o' feelin' like I'd choke... + "Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez, "you two on Choosday week, + Is to be joined in very 'oly bonds. + To break them vows I 'opes yeh'll never seek; + Fer I could curse them 'usbands 'oo absconds!" + "I'll love 'er till I snuff it," I responds. + "Ah, that's the way I likes to 'ear yeh speak, + Young friend," 'e sez. + + "Young friend," 'e sez--an' then me 'and 'e grips + "I wish't yeh luck, you an' yer lady fair. + Sweet maid." An' sof'ly wiv 'is finger-tips, + 'E takes an' strokes me cliner's shinin' 'air. + An' when I seen 'er standin' blushin' there, + I turns an' kisses 'er, fair on the lips. + "Young friend!" 'e sez. + + + + X. Hitched + + + "An'--wilt--yeh--take--this--woman--fer--to--be-- + Yer--weddid--wife?"...O, strike me! Will I wot? + TAKE 'er? Doreen? 'E stan's there ARSTIN' me! + As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not! + TAKE 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind was got + Like cigarette-cards, fer the arstin'. Still, + I does me stunt in this 'ere hitchin' rot, + An' speaks me piece: "Righto!" I sez, "I will." + + "I will," I sez. An' tho' a joyful shout + Come from me bustin' 'eart--I know it did-- + Me voice got sorter mangled comin' out, + An' makes me whisper like a frightened kid. + "I will," I squeaks. An' I'd 'a' give a quid + To 'ad it on the quite, wivout this fuss, + An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid + To see this solim hitchin' up of us. + + "Fer--rich-er--er--fer--por-er." So 'e bleats. + "In--sick-ness--an'--in-ealth,"...An' there I stands, + An' dunno'arf the chatter I repeats, + Nor wot the 'ell to do wiv my two 'ands. + But 'e don't 'urry puttin' on our brands-- + This white-'aired pilot-bloke--but gives it lip, + Dressed in 'is little shirt, wiv frills an' bands. + "In sick-ness--an'--in--" Ar! I got the pip! + An' once I missed me turn; an' Ginger Mick, + 'Oo's my best-man, 'e ups an' beefs it out. + "I will!" 'e 'owls; an' fetches me a kick. + "Your turn to chin!" 'e tips wiv a shout. + An' there I'm standin' like a gawky lout. + (Aw, spare me! But I seemed to be ALL 'ands!) + An' wonders wot 'e's goin' crook about, + Wiv 'arf a mind to crack 'im where 'e stands. + + O, lumme! But ole Ginger was a trick! + Got up regardless fer the solim rite. + ('E 'awks the bunnies when 'e toils, does Mick) + An' twice I saw 'im feelin' fer a light + To start a fag; an' trembles lest'e might, + Thro' force o' habit like. 'E's nervis too; + That's plain, fer orl 'is air o' bluff an' skite; + An' jist as keen as me to see it thro'. + + But, 'struth, the wimmin! 'Ow they love this frill! + Fer Auntie Liz, an' Mar, o' course, wus there; + An' Mar's two uncles' wives, an' Cousin Lil, + An' 'arf a dozen more to grin and stare. + I couldn't make me 'ands fit anywhere! + I felt like I wus up afore the Beak! + But my Doreen she never turns a 'air, + Nor misses once when it's 'er turn to speak. + + Ar, strike! No more swell marridges fer me! + It seems a blinded year afore 'e's done. + We could 'a' fixed it in the registree + Twice over 'fore this cove 'ad 'arf begun. + I s'pose the wimmin git some sorter fun + Wiv all this guyver, an' 'is nibs's shirt. + But, seems to me, it takes the bloomin' bun, + This stylish splicin' uv a bloke an' skirt. + + "To--be--yer--weddid--wife--" Aw, take a pull! + Wot in the 'ell's 'e think I come there for? + An' so 'e drawls an' drones until I'm full, + An' wants to do a duck clean out the door. + An' yet, fer orl 'is 'igh-falutin' jor, + Ole Snowy wus a reel good-meanin' bloke. + If 'twasn't fer the 'oly look 'e wore + Yeh'd think 'e piled it on jist fer a joke. + + An', when at last 'e shuts 'is little book, + I 'eaves a sigh that nearly bust me vest. + But 'Eavens! Now 'ere's muvver goin' crook! + An' sobbin' awful on me manly chest! + (I wish she'd give them water-works a rest.) + "My little girl!" she 'owls. "O, treat'er well! + She's young--too young to leave 'er muvver's nest!" + "Orright, ole chook," I nearly sez. Oh, 'ell! + + An' then we 'as a beano up at Mar's-- + A slap-up feed, wiv wine an' two big geese. + Doreen sits next ter me, 'er eyes like stars. + O, 'ow I wished their blessed yap would cease! + The Parson-bloke 'e speaks a little piece, + That makes me blush an' 'ang me silly 'ead. + 'E sez 'e 'opes our lovin' will increase-- + I LIKES that pilot fer the things 'e said. + + 'E sez Doreen an' me is in a boat, + An' sailin' on the matrimonial sea. + 'E sez as 'ow 'e 'opes we'll allus float + In peace an' joy, from storm an' danger free. + Then muvver gits to weepin' in 'er tea; + An' Auntie Liz sobs like a winded colt; + An' Cousin Lil comes 'round an' kisses me; + Until I feel I'll 'AVE to do a bolt. + + Then Ginger gits end-up an' makes a speech-- + ('E'd 'ad a couple, but 'e wasn't shick.) + "My cobber 'ere," 'e sez, "'as copped a peach! + Of orl the barrer-load she is the pick! + I 'opes 'e won't fergit 'is pals too quick + As wus 'is frien's in olden days, becors, + I'm trustin', later on," sez Ginger Mick, + "To celebrate the chris'nin'."...'Oly wars! + + At last Doreen an' me we gits away, + An' leaves 'em doin' nothin' to the scran. + (We're honey-moonin' down beside the Bay.) + I gives a 'arf a dollar to the man + Wot drives the cab; an' like two kids we ran + To ketch the train--Ah, strike! I could 'a' flown! + We gets the carridge right agen the van. + She whistles, jolts, an' starts...An' we're alone! + + Doreen an' me! My precious bit o' fluff! + Me own true weddid wife!...An' we're alone! + She seems so frail, an' me so big an' rough-- + I dunno wot this feelin' is that's grown + Inside me 'ere that makes me feel I own + A thing so tender like I fear to squeeze + Too 'ard fer fear she'll break...Then, wiv a groan + I starts to 'ear a coot call, "Tickets, please!" + + You could 'a' outed me right on the spot! + I wus so rattled when that porter spoke. + Fer, 'struth! them tickets I 'ad fair forgot! + But 'e jist laughs, an' takes it fer a joke. + "We must ixcuse," 'e sez, "new-married folk." + An' I pays up, an' grins, an' blushes red.... + It shows 'ow married life improves a bloke: + If I'd bin single I'd 'a' punched 'is head! + + + + XI. Beef Tea + + + She never magged; she never said no word; + But sat an' looked at me an' never stirred. + I could 'a' bluffed it out if she 'ad been + Fair narked, an' let me 'ave it wiv 'er tongue; + But silence told me 'ow 'er 'eart wus wrung. + Poor 'urt Doreen! + + Gorstruth! I'd sooner fight wiv fifty men + Than git one look like that frum 'er agen! + + She never moved; she never spoke no word; + That 'urt look in 'er eyes, like some scared bird: + "'Ere is the man I loved," it seemed to say. + "'E's mine, this crawlin' thing, an' I'm 'is wife; + Tied up fer good; an' orl me joy in life + Is chucked away!" + If she 'ad bashed me I'd 'a felt no 'urt! + But 'ere she treats me like--like I wus dirt. + + 'Ow is a man to guard agen that look? + Fer other wimmin, when the'r blokes go crook, + An' lobs 'ome wiv the wages uv a jag, + They smashes things an' carries on a treat + An' 'owls an' scolds an' wakes the bloomin' street + Wiv noisy mag. + But 'er--she never speaks; she never stirs... + I drops me bundle...An' the game is 'ers. + + Jist two months wed! Eight weeks uv married bliss + Wiv my Doreen, an' now it's come to this! + Wot wus I thinkin' uv? Gawd! I ain't fit + To kiss the place 'er little feet 'as been! + 'Er that I called me wife, me own Doreen! + Fond dreams'as flit; + Love's done a bunk, an' joy is up the pole; + An' shame an' sorrer's roostin' in me soul. + + 'Twus orl becors uv Ginger Mick--the cow! + (I wish't I 'ad 'im 'ere to deal wiv now! + I'd pass 'im one, I would! 'E ain't no man!) + I meets 'im Choosdee ev'nin' up the town. + "Wot O," 'e chips me. "Kin yeh keep one down?" + I sez I can. + We 'as a couple; then meets three er four + Flash coves I useter know, an' 'as some more. + + "'Ow are yeh on a little gamble, Kid?" + Sez Ginger Mick. "Lars' night I'm on four quid. + Come 'round an' try yer luck at Steeny's school." + "No," sez me conscience. Then I thinks, "Why not? + An' buy 'er presents if I wins a pot? + A blazin' fool + I wus. Fer 'arf a mo' I 'as a fight; + Then conscience skies the wipe...Sez I "Orright." + + Ten minutes later I was back once more, + Kip in me 'and, on Steeny Isaac's floor, + Me luck was in an' I wus 'eadin' good. + Yes, back agen amongst the same old crew! + An' orl the time down in me 'eart I knew + I never should... + Nex' thing I knows it's after two o'clock-- + Two in the mornin'! An' I've done me block! + + "Wot odds?" I thinks. "I'm in fer it orright." + An' so I stops an' gambles orl the night; + An' bribes me conscience wiv the gilt I wins. + But when I comes out in the cold, 'ard dawn + I know I've crooled me pitch; me soul's in pawn. + My flamin' sins + They 'its me in a 'eap right where I live; + Fer I 'ave broke the solim vow I give. + + She never magged; she never said no word. + An' when I speaks, it seems she never 'eard. + I could 'a' sung a nim, I feels so gay! + If she 'ad only roused I might 'a' smiled. + She jist seems 'urt an' crushed; not even riled. + I turns away, + An' yanks me carkis out into the yard, + Like some whipped pup; an' kicks meself reel 'ard. + + An' then, I sneaks to bed, an' feels dead crook. + Fer golden quids I couldn't face that look + That trouble in the eyes uv my Doreen. + Aw, strike! Wot made me go an' do this thing? + I feel jist like a chewed up bit of string, + An' rotten mean! + Fer 'arf an hour I lies there feelin' cheap; + An' then I s'pose, I muster fell asleep.... + + "'Ere, Kid, drink this"...I wakes, an' lifts me 'ead, + An' sees 'er standin' there beside the bed; + A basin in 'er 'ands; an' in 'er eyes + (Eyes that wiv unshed tears is shinin' wet)-- + The sorter look I never shall ferget, + Until I dies. + "'Ere, Kid, drink this," she sez, an' smiles at me. + I looks--an' spare me days! It WAS BEEF TEA! + + Beef tea! She treats me like a hinvaleed! + Me! that 'as caused 'er lovin' 'eart to bleed. + It 'urts me worse than maggin' fer a week! + 'Er! 'oo 'ad right to turn dead sour on me, + Fergives like that, an' feeds me wiv beef tea... + I tries to speak; + An' then--I ain't ashamed o' wot I did-- + I 'ides me face...an' blubbers like a kid. + + + + XII. Uncle Jim + + + "I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez'e, + "Give me a man wiv grit," sez Uncle Jim. + 'E bores 'is cute ole eyes right into me, + While I stares 'ard an' gives it back to 'im. + Then orl at once 'e grips me 'and in 'is: + "Some'ow," 'e sez, "I likes yer ugly phiz." + + "You got a look," 'e sez, "like you could stay; + Altho' yeh mauls King's English when yeh yaps, + An' 'angs flash frills on ev'rythink yeh say. + I ain't no grammarist meself, per'aps, + But langwidge is a 'elp, I owns," sez Unk, + "When things is goin' crook." An' 'ere 'e wunk. + + "Yeh'll find it tough," 'e sez, "to knuckle down. + Good farmin' is a gift--like spoutin' slang. + Yeh'll 'ave to cut the luxuries o' town, + An' chuck the manners of this back-street gang; + Fer country life ain't cigarettes and beer." + "I'm game," I sez. Sez Uncle, "Put it 'ere!" + + Like that I took the plunge, an' slung the game. + I've parted wiv them joys I 'eld most dear; + I've sent the leery bloke that bore me name + Clean to the pack wivout one pearly tear; + An' frum the ashes of a ne'er-do-well + A bloomin' farmer's blossomin' like 'ell. + + Farmer! That's me! Wiv this 'ere strong right 'and + I've gripped the plough; and blistered jist a treat. + Doreen an' me 'as gone upon the land. + Yours truly fer the burden an' the 'eat! + Yours truly fer upendin' chunks o' soil! + The 'ealthy, 'ardy, 'appy son o' toil! + + I owns I've 'ankered fer me former joys; + I've 'ad me hours o' broodin' on me woes; + I've missed the comp'ny, an' I've missed the noise, + The football matches an' the picter shows. + I've missed--but, say, it makes me feel fair mean + To whip the cat; an' then see my Doreen. + + To see the colour comin' in 'er cheeks, + To see 'er eyes grow brighter day be day, + The new, glad way she looks an' laughs an' speaks + Is worf ten times the things I've chucked away. + An' there's a secret, whispered in the dark, + 'As made me 'eart sing like a flamin' lark. + + Jist let me tell yeh 'ow it come about. + The things that I've been thro' 'ud fill a book. + Right frum me birf Fate played to knock me out; + The 'and that I 'ad dealt to me was crook! + Then comes Doreen, an' patches up me parst; + Now Forchin's come to bunk wiv me at larst. + + First orf, one night poor Mar gits suddin fits, + An' floats wivout the time to wave "good-byes." + Doreen is orl broke up the day she flits; + It tears me 'eart in two the way she cries. + To see 'er grief, it almost made me glad + I never knowed the mar I must 'ave 'ad. + + We done poor Muvver proud when she went out + A slap-up send-orf, trimmed wiv tears an' crape. + An' then fer weeks Doreen she mopes about, + An' life takes on a gloomy sorter shape. + I watch 'er face git pale, 'er eyes grow dim; + Till--like some 'airy angel--comes ole Jim. + + A cherub togged in sunburn an' a beard + An' duds that shouted "'Ayseed!" fer a mile: + Care took the count the minute 'e appeared, + An' sorter shrivelled up before 'is smile, + 'E got the 'ammer-lock on my good-will + The minute that 'e sez, "So, this is Bill." + + It's got me beat. Doreen's late Par, some way, + Was second cousin to 'is bruvver's wife. + Somethin' like that. In less than 'arf a day + It seemed 'e'd been my uncle orl me life. + 'E takes me 'and: "I dunno 'ow it is," + 'E sez, "but, lad, I likes that ugly phiz." + + An' when 'e'd stayed wiv us a little while + The 'ouse begun to look like 'ome once more. + Doreen she brightens up beneath 'is smile, + An' 'ugs 'im till I kids I'm gettin' sore. + Then, late one night, 'e opens up 'is scheme, + An' passes me wot looks like some fond dream. + + 'E 'as a little fruit-farm, doin' well; + 'E saved a tidy bit to see 'im thro'; + 'E's gettin' old fer toil, an' wants a spell; + An' 'ere's a 'ome jist waitin' fer us two. + "It's 'ers an' yours fer keeps when I am gone," + Sez Uncle Jim. "Lad, will yeh take it on?" + + So that's the strength of it. An' 'ere's me now + A flamin' berry farmer, full o' toil; + Playin' joo-jitsoo wiv an' 'orse an' plough, + An' coaxin' fancy tucker frum the soil, + An' longin', while I wrestles with the rake, + Fer days when me poor back fergits to ache. + + Me days an' nights is full of schemes an' plans + To figger profits an' cut out the loss; + An' when the pickin's on, I 'ave me 'an's + To take me orders while I act the boss; + It's sorter sweet to 'ave the right to rouse.... + An' my Doreen's the lady of the 'ouse. + + To see 'er bustlin' 'round about the place, + Full of the simple joy o' doin' things, + That thoughtful, 'appy look upon 'er face, + That 'ope an' peace an' pride o' labour brings, + Is worth the crowd of joys I knoo one time, + An' makes regrettin' 'em seem like a crime. + + An' ev'ry little while ole Uncle Jim + Comes up to stay a bit an' pass a tip. + It gives us 'eart jist fer to look at 'im, + An' feel the friendship in 'is warm 'and-grip. + 'Im, wiv the sunburn on 'is kind ole dile; + 'Im, wiv the sunbeams in 'is sweet ole smile. + + "I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez 'e, + "But that there ugly mug o' yourn I trust." + An' so I reckon that it's up to me + To make a bloomin' do of it or bust. + I got to take the back-ache wiv the rest, + An' plug along, an' do me little best. + + Luck ain't no steady visitor, I know; + But now an' then it calls--fer look at me! + You wouldn't take me, 'bout a year ago, + Free gratis wiv a shillin' pound o' tea; + Then, in a blessed 'eap, ole Forchin lands + A missus an' a farm fair in me 'ands. + + + + XIII. The Kid + + + My son!...Them words, jist like a blessed song, + Is singin' in me 'eart the 'ole day long; + Over an' over; while I'm scared I'll wake + Out of a dream, to find it all a fake. + + My son! Two little words, that, yesterdee, + Wus jist two simple, senseless words to me; + An' now--no man, not since the world begun, + Made any better pray'r than that....My son! + + My son an' bloomin' 'eir...Ours!...'Ers an' mine! + The finest kid in--Aw, the sun don't shine-- + Ther' ain't no joy fer me beneath the blue + Unless I'm gazin' lovin' at them two. + + A little while ago it was jist "me"-- + A lonely, longin' streak o' misery. + An' then 'twas "'er an' me"--Doreen, my wife! + An' now it's "'im an' us" an'--sich is life. + + But 'struth! 'E is king-pin! The 'ead serang! + I mustn't tramp about, or talk no slang; + I mustn't pinch 'is nose, or make a face, + I mustn't--Strike! 'E seems to own the place! + + Cunnin'? Yeh'd think, to look into 'is eyes, + 'E knoo the game clean thro'; 'e seems that wise. + Wiv 'er 'an nurse 'e is the leadin' man, + An' poor ole dad's amongst the "also ran." + + "Goog, goo," 'e sez, and curls 'is cunnin' toes. + Yeh'd be su'prised the 'caps o' things 'e knows. + I'll swear 'e tumbles I'm 'is father, too; + The way 'e squints at me, an' sez "Goog, goo." + + Why! 'smornin' 'ere 'is lordship gits a grip + Fair on me finger-give it quite a nip! + An' when I tugs, 'e won't let go 'is hold! + 'Angs on like that! An' 'im not three weeks old! + + "Goog, goo," 'e sez. I'll swear yeh never did + In all yer natcheril, see sich a kid. + The cunnin' ways 'e's got; the knowin' stare-- + Ther' ain't a youngster like 'im ANYWHERE! + + An', when 'e gits a little pain inside, + 'Is dead straight griffin ain't to be denied. + I'm sent to talk sweet nuffin's to the fowls; + While nurse turns 'and-springs ev'ry time 'e 'owls. + + But say, I tell yeh straight...I been thro' 'ell! + The things I thort I wouldn't dare to tell + Lest, in the tellin' I might feel again + One little part of all that fear an' pain. + + It come so sudden that I lorst me block. + First, it was, 'Ell-fer-leather to the doc., + 'Oo took it all so calm 'e made me curse + An' then I sprints like mad to get the nurse. + + By gum; that woman! But she beat me flat! + A man's jist putty in a game like that. + She owned me 'appy 'ome almost before + She fairly got 'er nose inside me door. + + Sweatin' I was! but cold wiv fear inside + An' then, to think a man could be denied + 'Is wife an' 'ome an' told to fade away + By jist one fat ole nurse 'oo's in 'is pay! + + I wus too weak wiv funk to start an' rouse. + 'Struth! Ain't a man the boss in 'is own 'ouse? + "You go an' chase yerself!" she tips me straight. + There's nothin' now fer you to do but--wait." + + Wait?...Gawd!...I never knoo wot waitin' meant + In all me life till that day I was sent + To loaf around, while there inside--Aw, strike! + I couldn't tell yeh wot that hour was like! + + Three times I comes to listen at the door; + Three times I drags meself away once more; + 'Arf dead wiv fear; 'arf dead wiv tremblin' joy... + An' then she beckons me, an' sez-"A boy!" + + "A boy!" she sez. "An' bofe is doin' well!" + I drops into a chair, an' jist sez--"'Ell!" + It was a pray'r. I feels bofe crook an' glad.... + An' that's the strength of bein' made a dad. + + I thinks of church, when in that room I goes, + 'Oldin' me breaf an' walkin' on me toes. + Fer 'arf a mo' I feared me nerve 'ud fail + To see 'er lying there so still an' pale. + + She looks so frail, at first, I dursn't stir. + An' then, I leans acrost an' kisses 'er; + An' all the room gits sorter blurred an' dim... + She smiles, an' moves 'er 'ead. "Dear lad! Kiss 'im." + + Near smothered in a ton of snowy clothes, + First thing, I sees a bunch o' stubby toes, + Bald 'ead, termater face, an' two big eyes. + "Look, Kid," she smiles at me. "Ain't 'e a size?" + + 'E didn't seem no sorter size to me; + But yet, I speak no lie when I agree; + "'E is," I sez, an' smiles back at Doreen, + "The biggest nipper fer 'is age I've seen." + + She turns away; 'er eyes is brimmin' wet. + "Our little son!" she sez. "Our precious pet!" + An' then, I seen a great big drop roll down + An' fall--kersplosh!--fair on 'is nibs's crown. + + An' still she smiles. "A lucky sign," she said. + "Somewhere, in some ole book, one time I read, + 'The child will sure be blest all thro' the years + Who's christened wiv 'is mother's 'appy tears."' + + "Kiss 'im," she sez. I was afraid to take + Too big a mouthful of 'im, fear 'e'd break. + An' when 'e gits a fair look at me phiz + 'E puckers up 'is nose, an' then--Geewhizz! + + 'Ow DID 'e 'owl! In'arf a second more + Nurse 'ad me 'ustled clean outside the door. + Scarce knowin' 'ow, I gits out in the yard, + An' leans agen the fence an' thinks reel 'ard. + + A long, long time I looks at my two 'ands. + "They're all I got," I thinks, "they're all that stands + Twixt this 'ard world an' them I calls me own. + An' fer their sakes I'll work 'em to the bone." + + Them vows an' things sounds like a lot o' guff. + Maybe, it's foolish thinkin' all this stuff-- + Maybe, it's childish-like to scheme an' plan; + But--I dunno--it's that way wiv a man. + + I only know that kid belongs to me! + We ain't decided yet wot 'e's to be. + Doreen, she sez 'e's got a poit's eyes; + But I ain't got much use fer them soft guys. + + I think we ort to make 'im something great-- + A bookie, or a champeen'eavy-weight: + Some callin' that'll give 'im room to spread. + A fool could see 'e's got a clever 'ead. + + I know 'e's good an' honest; for 'is eyes + Is jist like 'ers; so big an' lovin'-wise; + They carries peace an' trust where e'er they goes + An', say, the nurse she sez 'e's got my nose! + + Dead ring fer me ole conk, she sez it is. + More like a blob of putty on 'is phiz, + I think. But 'e's a fair 'ard case, all right. + I'll swear I thort 'e wunk at me last night! + + My wife an' fam'ly! Don't it sound all right! + That's wot I whispers to meself at night. + Some day, I s'pose, I'll learn to say it loud + An' careless; kiddin' that I don't feel proud. + + My son!...If there's a Gawd 'Oos leanin' near + To watch our dilly little lives down 'ere, + 'E smiles, I guess, if 'E's a lovin' one + Smiles, friendly-like, to 'ear them words--My son. + + + + XIV. The Mooch o' Life + + + This ev'nin' I was sittin' wiv Doreen, + Peaceful an' 'appy wiv the day's work done, + Watchin', be'ind the orchard's bonzer green, + The flamin' wonder of the settin' sun. + + Another day gone by; another night + Creepin' along to douse Day's golden light; + Another dawnin', when the night is gone, + To live an' love--an' so life mooches on. + + Times I 'ave thought, when things was goin' crook, + When 'Ope turned nark an' Love forgot to smile, + Of somethin' I once seen in some old book + Where an ole sore-'ead arsts, "Is life worf w'ile?" + + But in that stillness, as the day grows dim, + An' I am sittin' there wiv 'er an' 'im + My wife, my son! an' strength in me to strive, + I only know--it's good to be alive! + + Yeh live, yeh love, yeh learn; an' when yeh come + To square the ledger in some thortful hour, + The everlastin' answer to the sum + Must allus be, "Where's sense in gittin' sour?" + + Fer when yeh've come to weigh the good an' bad-- + The gladness wiv the sadness you 'ave 'ad-- + Then 'im 'oo's faith in 'uman goodness fails + Fergits to put 'is liver in the scales. + + Livin' an' lovin'; learnin' day be day; + Pausin' a minute in the barmy strife + To find that 'elpin' others on the way + Is gold coined fer your profit--sich is life. + + I've studied books wiv yearnings to improve, + To 'eave meself out of me lowly groove, + An' 'ere is orl the change I ever got: + "'Ark at yer 'eart, an' you kin learn the lot." + + I gives it in--that wisdom o' the mind-- + I wasn't built to play no lofty part. + Orl such is welkim to the joys they find; + I only know the wisdom o' the 'eart. + + An' ever it 'as taught me, day be day, + The one same lesson in the same ole way: + "Look fer yer profits in the 'earts o' friends, + Fer 'atin' never paid no dividends." + Life's wot yeh make it; an' the bloke 'oo tries + To grab the shinin' stars frum out the skies + Goes crook on life, an' calls the world a cheat, + An' tramples on the daisies at 'is feet. + + But when the moon comes creepin' o'er the hill, + An' when the mopoke calls along the creek, + I takes me cup o' joy an' drinks me fill, + An' arsts meself wot better could I seek. + + An' ev'ry song I 'ear the thrushes sing + That everlastin' message seems to bring; + An' ev'ry wind that whispers in the trees + Gives me the tip there ain't no joys like these: + + Livin' an' lovin'; wand'rin' on yer way; + Reapin' the 'arvest of a kind deed done; + An' watchin', in the sundown of yer day, + Yerself again, grown nobler in yer son. + + Knowin' that ev'ry coin o' kindness spent + Bears interest in yer 'eart at cent per cent; + Measurin' wisdom by the peace it brings + To simple minds that values simple things. + + An' when I take a look along the way + That I 'ave trod, it seems the man knows best, + Who's met wiv slabs of sorrer in 'is day, + When 'e is truly rich an' truly blest. + + An' I am rich, becos me eyes 'ave seen + The lovelight in the eyes of my Doreen; + An' I am blest, becos me feet 'ave trod + A land 'oo's fields reflect the smile o' God. + + Livin' an' lovin'; learnin' to fergive + The deeds an' words of some un'appy bloke + Who's missed the bus--so 'ave I come to live, + An' take the 'ole mad world as 'arf a joke. + + Sittin' at ev'nin' in this sunset-land, + Wiv 'Er in all the World to 'old me 'and, + A son, to bear me name when I am gone.... + Livin' an' lovin'--so life mooches on. + + + + + + + The Glossary + + + A.I.F.--Australian Imperial Force. + Alley, to toss in the--To give up the ghost. + Also ran, the--On the turf, horses that fail to secure a leading place; + hence, obscure persons, nonentities. + 'Ammer-lock (Hammer-lock)--A favourite and effective hold in wrestling. + Ar--An exclamation expressing joy, sorrow, surprise, etc., according + to the manner of utterance. + 'Ard Case (Hard Case)--A shrewd or humorous person. + 'Ayseed (Hayseed)--A rustic. + + Back Chat--Impudent repartee. + Back and Fill--To vacillate; to shuffle. + Back the Barrer--To intervene without invitation. + Barmy (Balmy)--Foolish; silly. + Beak--A magistrate. (Possibly from Anglo-Saxon, Beag--a magistrate.) + Beano--A feast. + Beans--Coins; money. + Beat--Puzzled; defeated. + Beat, off the---Out of the usual routine. + Beef (to beef it out)--To declaim vociferously. + Bellers (Bellows)--The lungs. + Biff--To smite. + Bird, to give the--To treat with derision. + Blighter--A worthless fellow. + Bli'me--An oath with the fangs drawn. + Blither--To talk at random, foolishly. + Blob--A shapeless mass. + Block--The head. + To lose or do in the block--To become flustered; excited; angry; + to lose confidence. + To keep the block--To remain calm; dispassionate. + Block, the--A fashionable city walk. + Bloke--A male adult of the genus homo. + Blubber, blub--To weep. + Bluff--Cunning practice; make believe. v. To deceive; to mislead. + Bob--A shilling. + Bokays--Compliments, flattery. + Boko--The nose. + Bong-tong--Patrician (Fr. Bon ton). + Bonzer, boshter, bosker--Adjectives expressing the superlative of + excellence. + Boodle--Money; wealth. + Book--A bookie, q.v. + Bookie--A book-maker (turf); one who makes a betting book on sporting + events. + Boot, to put in the--To kick a prostrate foe. + Boss--Master, employer. + Break (to break away, to do a break)--To depart in haste. + Breast up to--To accost. + Brisket--The chest. + Brown--A copper coin. + Brums--Tawdry finery (From Brummagem--Birmingham). + Buckley's (Chance)--A forlorn hope. + Buck-up--Cheer up. + Bump--To meet; to accost aggressively. + Bun, to take the--To take the prize (used ironically). + Bundle, to drop the--To surrender; to give up hope. + Bunk--To sleep in a "bunk" or rough bed. + To do a bunk--To depart. Bunnies, to hawk the--To peddle rabbits. + Bus, to miss the--To neglect opportunities. + + Caboose--A small dwelling. + Carlton--A Melbourne Football Team. + Cat, to whip the--To cry over spilt milk; i.e. to whip the cat that + has spilt the milk. + C.B.--Confined to barracks. + Cert--A certainty; a foregone conclusion. + Champeen--Champion. + Chase yourself--Depart; avaunt; "fade away," q.v. + Chat--To address tentatively; to "word" q.v. + Cheque, to pass in one's--To depart this life. + Chest, to get it off one's--To deliver a speech; express one's feelings. + Chew, to chew it over; to chew the rag--To sulk; to nurse a grievance. + Chiack--Vulgar banter; coarse invective. + Chin--To talk; to wag the chin. + Chip--To "chat," q.v. + Chip in--To intervene. + Chiv--The face. + Chow--A native of far Cathay. + Chuck up--To relinquish. + Chuck off--To chaff; to employ sarcasm. + Chump--A foolish fellow. + Chunk--A lump; a mass. + Clean--Completely; utterly. + Click--A clique; a "push," q.v. + Cliner--A young unmarried female. + Clobber--Raiment; vesture. + Cobber--A boon companion. + Collect--To receive one's deserts. + Colour-line--In pugilism, the line drawn by white boxers excluding + coloured fighters--for divers reasons. + Conk--The nose. + Coot--A person of no account (used contemptuously). + Cop--To seize; to secure; also s. An avocation, a "job." + Cop (or Copper)--A police constable. + Copper-top--Red head. + Copper show--A copper mine. + Count, to take the--In pugilism, to remain prostrate for ten + counted seconds, and thus lose the fight. + Cove--A "chap" or "bloke," q.v. (Gipsy). + Cow--A thoroughly unworthy, not to say despicable, person, place, + thing, or circumstance. + A fair cow--An utterly obnoxious and otherwise unexpressible person, + place, thing, or circumstance. + Crack--To smite. s. A blow. + Crack a boo--To divulge a secret; to betray emotion. + Crack hardy--To suppress emotion; to endure patiently; to keep a secret. + Cray--A crayfish. + Crib--A dwelling. + Croak--To die. + Crook--A dishonest or evil person. + Crook--Unwell; dishonest; spurious; fraudulent. Superlative, Dead Crook. + Crool (cruel) the pitch--To frustrate; to interfere with one's + schemes or welfare. + Crust--Sustenance; a livelihood: + Cut it out--Omit it; discontinue it. + + Dago--A native of Southern Europe. + Dash, to do-one's--To reach one's Waterloo. + Date--An appointment. + Dawg (dog)--A contemptible person; ostentation. + To put on dawg--To behave in an arrogant manner. + Dead--In a superlative degree; very. + Deal--To deal it out; to administer punishment, abuse, etc. + Deener--A shilling (Fr. Denier. Denarius, a Roman silver coin). + Derry--An aversion; a feud; a dislike. + Dickin--A term signifying disgust or disbelief. + Dile (dial)--The face. + Dilly--Foolish; half-witted. + Ding Dong--Strenuous. + Dinkum--Honest; true. "The Dinkum Oil."--The truth. + Dirt--Opprobrium, a mean speech or action. + Dirty left--A formidable left fist. + Divvies--Dividends; profits. + Dizzy limit--The utmost; the superlative degree. + Do in--To defeat; to kill; to spend. + Done me luck--Lost my good fortune. + Dope--A drug; adulterated liquor. v. To administer drugs. + Dot in the eye, to--To strike in the eye. + Douse--To extinguish (Anglo-Saxon). + Drive a quill--To write with a pen; to work in an office. + Duck, to do a--See "break." + Duds--Personal apparel (Scotch). + Dunno--Do not know. + Dutch--German; any native of Central Europe. + + 'Eads (Heads)--The authorities; inner council. + 'Eadin'--"Heading browns"; tossing pennies. + 'Ead over Turkey--Head over heels. + 'Ead Serang--The chief; the leader. + 'Eavyweight--A boxer of the heaviest class. + 'Ell--fer-leather--In extreme haste. + End up, to get--To rise to one's feet. + + Fade away, to--To retire; to withdraw. + Fag--A cigarette. + Fair--Extreme; positive. + Fair thing--A wise proceeding; an obvious duty. + Fake--A swindle; a hoax. + Finger--An eccentric or amusing person. + Flam--Nonsense; make--believe. + Flash--Ostentatious; showy but counterfeit. + Float, to--To give up the ghost. + Fluff, a bit of--A young female person. + Foot (me foot)--A term expressing ridicule. + Footer--Football. + Frame--The body. + Frill--Affectation. + Funk, to--To fear; to lose courage. + Furphy--An idle rumour; a canard. + + Galoot--A simpleton. + Game--Occupation; scheme; design. + Gawsave--The National Anthem. + Gazob--A fool; a blunderer. + Geewhizz--Exclamation expressing surprise. + Get, to do a--To retreat hastily. + Gilt--Money; wealth. + Give, to--In one sense, to care. + Gizzard--The heart. + Glassey--The glassy eye; a glance of cold disdain. + The Glassey Alley--The favourite; the most admired. + Glim--A light. + Going (while the going is good)--While the path is clear. + Gone (fair gone)--Overcome, as with emotion. + Goo-goo eyes--Loving glances. + Gorspil-cove--A minister of the Gospel. + Graft--Work. + Grafter--One who toils hard or willingly. + Griffin, the straight--The truth, secret information. + Grip--Occupation; employment. + Groggy--Unsteady; dazed. + Grouch--To mope; to grumble. + Grub--Food. + Guff--Nonsense. + Guy--A foolish fellow. + Guy, to do a--To retire. + Guyver--Make-believe. + + Hankies--A fondling of hands between lovers. + Hang out--To reside; to last. + Hang-over--The aftermath of the night before. + Hankies--Handkerchiefs. + High-falutin'--High sounding; boastful. + Hitch, to--To wed. + Hitched--Entangled in the bonds of holy matrimony. + Hit things up--To behave strenuously; riotously. + Hot--Excessive, extreme. + Hump, the--A fit of depression. + Hump, to--To carry as a swag or other burden. + + Imshee--Begone; retreat; to take yourself off. [Arabic] + Intro--Introduction; "knock--down," q.v. + It (to be It)--To assume a position of supreme importance. + + Jab--To strike smartly. + Jane--A woman. + Jiff--A very brief period. + Job, to--To smite. + Joes--Melancholy thoughts. + John--A policeman. + Joint, to jump the--To assume command; to occupy the "joint," + i.e., establishment, situation, place of business. + Jolt, to pass a--To deliver a short, sharp blow. + Jor--The jaw. + Jorb (Job)--Avocation; employment. + Josser--A simple fellow. + Jug--A prison. + + Keekin'--Peeping. + Keeps, for--For ever; permanently. + Kersplosh--Splash. + Kid--A child. + Kid, to--To deceive; to persuade by flattery. + Kiddies--Children. + Kid Stakes--Pretence. + King Pin--The leader; the person of chief importance. + Kip--A small chip used for tossing pennies in the occult game + of two--up. + Kipsie--A house; the home. + Knob--The head; one in authority. + Knock-down--A ceremony insisted upon by ladies who decline + to be "picked up"; a formal introduction. + Knock-out drops--Drugged or impure liquor. + Knock-out punch--A knock--down blow. + Knot--A fop; a well--dressed idler. + + Lark--A practical joke; a sportive jest. + Lash--Violence. + Ledding--Leaden. + Leery--Vulgar; low. + Leeuwin--Cape Leeuwin on the south-west coast of Australia. + Lid--The hat. + To dip the lid--To raise the hat. + Limit--The end; the full length. + Line up--To approach; to accost. + Lingo--Language. + Lip--Impertinence. + To give it lip--To talk vociferously. + Little Bourke--Little Bourke Street, Melbourne, Australia. + Little Lon.--Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, Australia. + Lob, to--To arrive. + 'Loo--Woolloomooloo, a part of Sydney. + Lumme--Love me. + Lurk--A plan of action; a regular occupation. + + Mafeesh--Finish; I am finished. [Arabic "there is no.."] + Mag--To scold or talk noisily. + Mallee--A species of Eucalypt; the country where the Mallee grows. + Mash--To woo; to pay court. s. A lover. + Maul--To lay hands upon, either violently or with affection. + Meet, a--An assignation. + Mill--A bout of fisticuffs. + Mix--To mix it; to fight strenuously. + Mizzle--To disappear; to depart suddenly. + Mo--An abbreviation of "moment." + Moll--A woman of loose character. + Moniker--A name; a title; a signature. + Mooch--To saunter about aimlessly. + Moon--To loiter. + Mud, my name is--i.e., I am utterly discredited. + Mug--A fool; also the mouth. + Mug, to--To kiss. + Mullock, to poke--To deride; to tease. + Mushy--Sentimental. + + Nark--s. A spoil--sport; a churlish fellow. + Nark, to--To annoy; to foil. + Narked--Angered; foiled. + Natchril--Natural + Neck, to get it in the--To receive severe punishment; + i.e., "Where the chicken got the axe." + Nerve--Confidence; impudence. + Nick--Physical condition; good health. + Nipper--A small boy. + Nose around, to--To seek out inquisitively. + Nothing (ironically)--Literally "something considerable." + + Odds, above the--Beyond the average; outside the pale. + Oopizootics--An undiagnosed complaint. + Orfis (office)--A warning; a word of advice; a hint. + Oricle (oracle), to work the--To secure desired results. + Orl (all in)--Without limit or restriction. + 'Ot socks--Gaily--coloured hose. + Out, to--To render unconscious with a blow. + Out, all--Quite exhausted; fully extended. + + Pack, to send to the--To relegate to obscurity. + Pal--A friend; a mate (Gipsy). + Pard--A partner; a mate. + Pass (pass 'im one)--To deliver a blow. + Pat [Malone] on one's--Alone; single-handed. + Peach--A desirable young woman; "fresh as a peach." + Peb (pebble)--A flash fellow; a "larrikin." + Phiz--The face. + Pick at--To chaff; to annoy + Pick--up, to--To dispense with the ceremony of a "knock--down" or + introduction. + Pile it on--To rant; to exaggerate. + Pilot Cove--A clergyman. + Pinch--To steal; to place under arrest. + Pip--A fit of depression. + Pitch a tale--To trump up an excuse; to weave a romance. + Plant--To bury. + Plug--To smite with the fist. + Plug along, to--To proceed doggedly. + Plunk--An exclamation expressing the impact of a blow. + Point, to--To seize unfair advantage; to scheme. + Podgy--Fat; plump. + Point--The region of the jaw; much sought after by pugilists. + Pot, the old--The male parent (from "Rhyming Slang,") the + "old pot and pan"--the "old man." + Pot, a--A considerable amount; as a "pot of money." + Pole, up the--Distraught through anger, fear, etc.; also, + disappeared, vanished. + Prad--A horse. + Pug--A pugilist. + Pull, to take a--To desist; to discontinue. + Punch a cow--To conduct a team of oxen. + Punter--The natural prey of a "bookie," q.v. + Push--A company of rowdy fellows gathered together for ungentle + purposes. + + Queer the pitch--To frustrate; to fool. + Quid--A sovereign, or pound sterling. + Quod--Prison. + + Rabbit, to run the--To convey liquor from a public-house. + Rag, to chew the--To grieve; to brood. + Rag, to sky the--To throw a towel into the air in token of + surrender (pugilism). + Rain, to keep out of the--To avoid danger; to act with caution. + Rat--A street urchin; a wharf loafer. + Rattled--Excited; confused. + Red lot--Extreme; out--and--out. + Registry--The office of a Registrar. + Ribuck----Correct, genuine; an interjection signifying assent. + Rile--To annoy. Riled--Roused to anger. + Ring, the--The arena of a prize-fight. + Ring, the dead--A remarkable likeness. + Rise, a--An accession of fortune; an improvement. + Rocks--A locality in Sydney. + Rorty--Boisterous; rowdy. + Roust, or Rouse--To upbraid with many words. + 'Roy--Fitzroy, a suburb of Melbourne; its football team. + Run against--To meet more or less unexpectedly. + + Saints--A football team of St Kilda, Victoria. + Sandy blight--Ophthalmia. + Savvy--Common-sense; shrewdness. + School--A club; a clique of gamblers, or others. + Scran--Food. + Scrap--Fight. + Set, to--To attack; to regard with disfavour. + Set, to have--To have marked down for punishment or revenge. + Shick, shickered--Intoxicated. + Shicker--Intoxicating liquor. + Shinty--A game resembling hockey. + Shook--Stolen; disturbed. + Shook on--Infatuated. + Shyin' or Shine--Excellent; desirable. + Sight--To tolerate; to permit; also to see; observe. + Sir Garneo--In perfect order; satisfactory. + Skirt or bit of skirt--A female. + Skite--To boast. + Skiter--A boaster. + Sky the wipe--See "rag." + Slab--A portion; a tall, awkward fellow. + Slanter--Spurious; unfair. + Slap-up--Admirable; excellent. + Slats--The ribs. + Slaver--One engaged in the "white slave traffic." + Slick--Smart; deft; quick. + Slope, to--To elope; to leave in haste. + Sloppy--Lachrymose; maudlin. + Slushy--A toiler in a scullery. + Smooge--To flatter or fawn; to bill and coo. + Smooger--A sycophant; a courtier. + Snag--A hindrance; formidable opponent. + Snake-'eaded--Annoyed, vindictive. + Snake juice--Strong drink. + Snare--To acquire; to seize; to win. + Snide--Inferior; of no account. + Snob--A bootmaker. + Snout--To bear a grudge. + Snouted--Treated with disfavour. + Snuff or snuff it--To expire. + Sock it into--To administer physical punishment. + Solid--Severe; severely. + So-long--A form of farewell. + Sool--To attack; to urge on. + Soot, leadin'--A chief attribute. + Sore, to get--To become aggrieved. + Sore-head--A curmudgeon. + Sour, to turn, or get--To become pessimistic or discontented. + Spank--To chastise maternal-wise. + Spar--A gentle bout of fisticuffs. + Spare me days--A pious ejaculation. + Specs--Spectacles. + Splash--To expend. + Splice--To join in holy matrimony. + Spout--To preach or speak at length. + Sprag--To accost truculently. + Spruik--To deliver a speech, as a showman. + Square--Upright, honest. + Square an' all--Of a truth; verily. + Squiz--A brief glance. + Stand-orf--Retiring; reticent. + Stajum--Stadium, where prize-fights are conducted. S + tiffened--Bought over. + Stiff-un--A corpse. + Stoke--To nourish; to eat. + Stop a pot--To quaff ale. + Stoush--To punch with the fist. s. Violence. + Straight, on the--In fair and honest fashion. + Strangle-hold--An ungentle embrace in wrestling. + Strength of it--The truth of it; the value of it. + Stretch, to do a--To serve a term of imprisonment. + Strike--The innocuous remnant of a hardy curse. + Strike--To discover; to meet. + Strong, going--Proceeding with vigour. + 'Struth--An emaciated oath. + Stuff--Money. + Stunt--A performance; a tale. + Swad, Swaddy--A private soldier. + Swank--Affectation; ostentation. + Swap--To exchange. + Swell--An exalted person. + Swig--A draught of water or other liquid. + + Tabbie--A female. + Take 'em on--Engage them in battle. + Take it out--To undergo imprisonment in lieu of a fine. + Tart--A young woman (contraction of sweetheart). + Tenner--A ten-pound note. + Time, to do--To serve a term in prison. + Time, to have no time for--To regard with impatient disfavour. + Tip--To forecast; to give; to warn. + Tip--A warning; a prognostication; a hint. + Tipple--Strong drink; to indulge in strong drink. + Toff--An exalted persogn. + Togs--Clothes. + Togged--Garbed. + Tom--A girl. + Tony--Stylish. + Took--Arrested; apprehended. + Top, off one's--Out of one's mind. + Top off, to--To knock down; to assault. + Toss in the towel--See "rag." + Touch--Manner; mode; fashion. + Tough--Unfortunate; hardy; also a "tug," q.v. + Tough luck--Misfortune. + Track with--To woo; to "go walking with." + Treat, a--Excessively; abundantly. + Tucked away--Interred. + Tug--An uncouth fellow; a hardy rogue. + Tumble to, or to take a tumble--To comprehend suddenly. + Turkey, head over--Head over heels. + Turn down--To reject; dismiss. + Turn, out of one's--Impertinently; uninvited. + Twig--To observe; to espy. + Two-up School--A gambling den. + + Umpty--An indefinite numeral. + Upper--cut--In pugilism, an upward blow. + Uppish--Proud. + Up to us--Our turn; our duty. + + Vag, on the--Under the provisions of the Vagrancy Act. + + Wallop--To beat; chastise. + Waster--A reprobate; an utterly useless and unworthy person. + Waterworks, to turn on the--To shed tears. + Welt--A blow. + Wet, to get--To become incensed; ill-tempered. + Whips--Abundance. + White (white man)--A true, sterling fellow. + White-headed boy--A favourite; a pet. + Willin'--Strenuous; hearty. + Win, a--Success. + Wise, to get--To comprehend; to unmask deceit. + Wolf--To eat. + Word--To accost with fair speech. + Wot price--Behold; how now! + + Yakker--Hard toil. + Yap--To talk volubly. + Yowling--Wailing; caterwauling. + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, by C. 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Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dec1091 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #4730 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/4730) diff --git a/old/tsblk10.txt b/old/tsblk10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..badc803 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/tsblk10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2758 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke +by C.J. Dennis + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke + +Author: C.J. Dennis + +Release Date: December, 2003 [EBook #4730] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on March 8, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +************************************************************************ + + + + + +C.J.Dennis: The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke + + + +To Mr and Mrs J. G. Roberts + + + + +La vie est vaine: +Un peu d'amour, +Un peu de haine... +Et puis--bonjour! + +La vie est breve: +Un peu d'espoir, +Un peu de reve... +Et puis--bonsoir! + +Leon Montenaeken + + +Foreword + +My young friend Dennis has honoured me with a request to write +a preface to his book. I think a man can best write a preface +to his own book, provided he knows it is good. Also if he knows +it is bad. + +"The Sentimental Bloke", while running through the Bulletin, +brightened up many dark days for me. He is more perfect +than any alleged "larrikin" or Bottle-O character I have ever +attempted to sketch, not even excepting my own beloved Benno. +Take the first poem for instance, where the Sentimental Bloke +gets the hump. How many men, in how many different parts of +the world--and of how many different languages--have had the +same feeling--the longing for something better--to be something +better? + +The exquisite humour of The Sentimental Bloke speaks for itself; +but there's a danger that its brilliance may obscure the rest, +especially for minds, of all stations, that, apart from sport +and racing, are totally devoted to boiling + "The cabbitch storks or somethink" +in this social "pickle found-ery" of ours. + +Doreen stands for all good women, whether down in the smothering +alleys or up in the frozen heights. And so, having introduced +the little woman (they all seem "little" women), I "dips me lid"-- +and stand aside. + +HENRY LAWSON +SYDNEY, 1st September, 1915. + + +Contents + +I. A SPRING SONG + The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat;... + +II. THE INTRO + 'Er name's Doreen...Well, spare me bloomin' days!... + +III. THE STOUSH O' DAY + Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown--... + +IV. DOREEN + I wish't yeh meant it, Bill." Oh, 'ow me 'eart... + +V. THE PLAY + "Wot's in a name?" she sez... An' then she sighs,... + +VI. THE STROR 'AT COOT + Ar, wimmin! Wot a blinded fool I've been!... + +VII. THE SIREN + She sung a song, an' I sat silent there.... + +VIII. MAR + "'Er pore dear Par," she sez, "'e kept a store";... + +IX. PILOT COVE + "Young friend," 'e sez...Young friend! Well, spare me days!... + +X. HITCHED + "An'--wilt--yeh--take--this--woman--fer--to--be--... + +XI. BEEF TEA + She never magged; she never said no word;... + +XII. UNCLE JIM + "I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez 'e,... + +XIII. THE KID + My son!...Them words, jist like a blessed song,... + +XIV. THE MOOCH O' LIFE + This ev'nin' I was sittin' wiv Doreen,... + +THE GLOSSARY + + + + + + +I. A Spring Song + + +The world 'as got me snouted jist a treat; + Crool Forchin's dirty left 'as smote me soul; +An' all them joys o' life I 'eld so sweet + Is up the pole. +Fer, as the poit sez, me 'eart 'as got + The pip wiv yearnin' fer--I dunno wot. + +I'm crook; me name is Mud; I've done me dash; + Me flamin' spirit's got the flamin' 'ump! +I'm longin' to let loose on somethin' rash.... + Aw, I'm a chump! +I know it; but this blimed ole Springtime craze + Fair outs me, on these dilly, silly days. + +The young green leaves is shootin' on the trees, + The air is like a long, cool swig o' beer, +The bonzer smell o' flow'rs is on the breeze, + An' 'ere's me, 'ere, +Jist moochin' round like some pore, barmy coot, + Of 'ope, an' joy, an' forchin destichoot. + +I've lorst me former joy in gettin' shick, + Or 'eadin' browns; I 'aven't got the 'eart +To word a tom; an', square an' all, + I'm sick of that cheap tart +'Oo chucks 'er carkis at a feller's 'ead + An' mauls 'im...Ar! I wish't that I wus dead!... + +Ther's little breezes stirrin' in the leaves, + An' sparrers chirpin' 'igh the 'ole day long; +An' on the air a sad, sweet music breaves + A bonzer song-- +A mournful sorter choon thet gits a bloke + Fair in the brisket 'ere, an' makes 'im choke ... + +What is the matter wiv me?...I dunno. + I got a sorter yearnin' 'ere inside, +A dead-crook sorter thing that won't let go + Or be denied-- +A feelin' like I want to do a break, + An' stoush creation for some woman's sake. + +The little birds is chirpin' in the nest, + The parks an' gardings is a bosker sight, +Where smilin' tarts walks up an' down, all dressed + In clobber white. +An', as their snowy forms goes steppin' by, + It seems I'm seekin' somethin' on the sly. + +Somethin' or someone--I don't rightly know; + But, seems to me, I'm kind er lookin' for +A tart I knoo a 'undred years ago, + Or, maybe, more. +Wot's this I've 'eard them call that thing?...Geewhizz! +Me ideel bit o' skirt! That's wot it is! + +Me ideel tart!... An', bli'me, look at me! + Jist take a squiz at this, an' tell me can +Some square an' honist tom take this to be + 'Er own true man? +Aw, Gawd! I'd be as true to 'er, I would + As straight an' stiddy as...Ar, wot's the good? + +Me, that 'as done me stretch fer stoushin' Johns, + An' spen's me leisure gittin' on the shick, +An' 'arf me nights down there, in Little Lon., + Wiv Ginger Mick, +Jist 'eadin' 'em, an' doing in me gilt. + Tough luck! I s'pose it's 'ow a man is built. + +It's 'ow Gawd builds a bloke; but don't it 'urt + When 'e gits yearnin's fer this 'igher life, +On these Spring mornin's, watchin' some sweet skirt + Some fucher wife-- +Go sailin' by, an' turnin' on his phiz + The glarssy eye--fer bein' wot 'e is. + + +I've watched 'em walkin' in the gardings 'ere + Cliners from orfices an' shops an' such; +The sorter skirts I dursn't come too near, + Or dare to touch. +An, when I see the kind er looks they carst... + Gorstrooth! Wot is the use o' me, I arst? + +Wot wus I slung 'ere for? An wot's the good + Of yearnin' after any ideel tart?... +Ar, if a bloke wus only understood! + 'E's got a 'eart: +'E's got a soul inside 'im, poor or rich. + But wot's the use, when 'Eaven's crool'd 'is pitch? + +I tells meself some day I'll take a pull + An' look eround fer some good, stiddy job, +An' cut the push fer good an' all; I'm full + Of that crook mob! +An', in some Spring the fucher 'olds in store, + I'll cop me prize an' long in vain no more. + +The little winds is stirrin' in the trees, + Where little birds is chantin' lovers' lays; +The music of the sorft an' barmy breeze... + Aw, spare me days! +If this 'ere dilly feelin' doesn't stop + I'll lose me block an' stoush some flamin' cop! + + + +II. The Intro + + +'Er name's Doreen ...Well spare me bloomin' days! +You could er knocked me down wiv 'arf a brick! + Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways, + An' 'as a name for smoogin' in our click! +I just lines up an' tips the saucy wink. +But strike! The way she piled on dawg! Yer'd think + A bloke was givin' back-chat to the Queen.... + 'Er name's Doreen. + +I seen 'er in the markit first uv all, +Inspectin' brums at Steeny Isaacs' stall. + I backs me barrer in--the same ole way-- + An' sez, "Wot O! It's been a bonzer day. +'Ow is it fer a walk?"...Oh, 'oly wars! +The sorter look she gimme! Jest becors + I tried to chat 'er, like you'd make a start + Wiv ANY tart. + +An' I kin take me oaf I wus perlite. +An' never said no word that wasn't right, + An' never tried to maul 'er, or to do + A thing yeh might call crook. Ter tell yeh true, +I didn't seem to 'ave the nerve--wiv 'er. +I felt as if I couldn't go that fur, + An' start to sling off chiack like I used... + Not INTRAJUICED! + +Nex' time I sighted 'er in Little Bourke, +Where she was in a job. I found'er lurk + Wus pastin' labels in a pickle joint, + A game that--any'ow, that ain't the point. +Once more I tried ter chat 'er in the street, +But, bli'me! Did she turn me down a treat! + The way she tossed 'er 'cad an' swished 'er skirt! + Oh, it wus dirt! + +A squarer tom, I swear, I never seen, +In all me natchril, than this 'ere Doreen. + It wer'n't no guyver neither; fer I knoo + That any other bloke 'ad Buckley's 'oo +Tried fer to pick 'er up. Yes, she was square. +She jist sailed by an' lef' me standin' there + Like any mug. Thinks I, "I'm out er luck," + An' done a duck + +Well, I dunno. It's that way wiv a bloke. +If she'd ha' breasted up ter me an' spoke, + I'd thort 'er jist a commin bit er fluff, + An' then fergot about 'er, like enough. +It's jest like this. The tarts that's 'ard ter get +Makes you all 'ot to chase 'em, an' to let + The cove called Cupid get an 'ammer-lock; + An' lose yer block. + +I know a bloke 'oo knows a bloke 'oo toils +In that same pickle found-ery. ('E boils + The cabbitch storks or somethink.) Anyway, + I gives me pal the orfis fer to say +'E 'as a sister in the trade 'oo's been +Out uv a jorb, an' wants ter meet Doreen; + Then we kin get an intro, if we've luck. + 'E sez, "Ribuck." + +O' course we worked the oricle; you bet! +But, 'struth, I ain't recovered frum it yet! + 'Twas on a Saturdee, in Colluns Street, + An'--quite by accident, o' course--we meet. +Me pal 'e trots 'er up an' does the toff +'E allus wus a bloke fer showin' off. + "This 'ere's Doreen," 'e sez. "This 'ere's the Kid." + I dips me lid. + +"This 'ere's Doreen," 'e sez. I sez "Good day." +An', bli'me, I 'ad nothin' more ter say! + I couldn't speak a word, or meet 'er eye. + Clean done me block! I never been so shy. +Not since I was a tiny little cub, +An' run the rabbit to the corner pub-- + Wot time the Summer days wus dry an' 'ot-- + Fer me ole pot. + +Me! that 'as barracked tarts, an' torked an' larft, +An' chucked orf at 'em like a phonergraft! + Gorstrooth! I seemed to lose me pow'r o' speech. + But, 'er! Oh, strike me pink! She is a peach! +The sweetest in the barrer! Spare me days, +I carn't describe that cliner's winnin' ways. + The way she torks! 'Er lips! 'Er eyes! 'Er hair!... + Oh, gimme air! + +I dunno 'ow I done it in the end. +I reckerlect I arst ter be 'er friend; + An' tried ter play at 'andies in the park, + A thing she wouldn't sight. Aw, it's a nark! +I gotter swear when I think wot a mug +I must 'a' seemed to 'er. But still I 'ug + That promise that she give me fer the beach. + The bonzer peach! + +Now, as the poit sez, the days drag by +On ledding feet. I wish't they'd do a guy. + I dunno'ow I 'ad the nerve ter speak, + An' make that meet wiv 'er fer Sundee week! +But strike! It's funny wot a bloke'll do +When 'e's all out...She's gorn, when I come-to. + I'm yappin' to me cobber uv me mash.... + I've done me dash! + +'Er name's Doreen....An' me-that thort I knoo + The ways uv tarts, an' all that smoogin' game! +An' so I ort; fer ain't I known a few? + Yet some'ow...I dunno. It ain't the same. +I carn't tell WOT it is; but, all I know, +I've dropped me bundle--an' I'm glad it's so. + Fer when I come ter think uv wot I been.... + 'Er name's Doreen. + + + +III. The Stoush o' Day + + +Ar, these is 'appy days! An' 'ow they've flown-- + Flown like the smoke of some inchanted fag; +Since dear Doreen, the sweetest tart I've known, + Passed me the jolt that made me sky the rag. +An' ev'ry golding day floats o'er a chap +Like a glad dream of some celeschil scrap. + +Refreshed wiv sleep Day to the mornin' mill + Comes jauntily to out the nigger, Night. +Trained to the minute, confident in skill, + 'E swaggers in the East, chock-full o' skite; +Then spars a bit, an' plugs Night on the point. +Out go the stars; an' Day 'as jumped the joint. + +The sun looks up, an' wiv a cautious stare, + Like some crook keekin' o'er a winder sill +To make dead cert'in everythink is square, + 'E shoves 'is boko o'er an Eastern 'ill, +Then rises, wiv 'is dial all a-grin, +An' sez, "'Ooray! I knoo that we could win!" + +Sure of 'is title then, the champeen Day + Begins to put on dawg among 'is push, +An', as he mooches on 'is gaudy way, + Drors tribute from each tree an' flow'r an' bush. +An', w'ile 'e swigs the dew in sylvan bars, +The sun shouts insults at the sneakin' stars. + +Then, lo! the push o' Day rise to applaud; + An' all 'is creatures clamour at 'is feet +Until 'e thinks'imself a little gawd, + An' swaggers on an' kids 'imself a treat. +The w'ile the lurkin' barrackers o' Night +Sneak in retreat an' plan another fight. + +On thro' the hours, triumphant, proud an' fit, +The champeen marches on 'is up'ard way, +Till, at the zenith, bli'me! 'E-is-IT! +And all the world bows to the Boshter Day. +The jealous Night speeds ethergrams thro' space +'Otly demandin' terms, an' time, an' place. + +A wile the champeen scorns to make reply; + 'E's taken tickets on 'is own 'igh worth; +Puffed up wiv pride, an' livin' mighty 'igh, + 'E don't admit that Night is on the earth. +But as the hours creep on 'e deigns to state +'E'll fight for all the earth an' 'arf the gate. + +Late afternoon...Day feels 'is flabby arms, + An' tells 'imself 'e don't seem quite the thing. +The 'omin' birds shriek clamorous alarms; + An' Night creeps stealthily to gain the ring. +But see! The champeen backs an' fills, becos +'E doesn't feel the Boshter Bloke 'e was. + +Time does a bunk as us-u-al, nor stays + A single instant, e'en at Day's be'est. +Alas, the 'eavy-weight's 'igh-livin' ways + 'As made 'im soft, an' large around the vest. +'E sez 'e's fat inside; 'e starts to whine; +'E sez 'e wants to dror the colour line. + +Relentless nigger Night crawls thro' the ropes, + Advancin' grimly on the quakin' Day, +Whose noisy push, shorn of their 'igh-noon 'opes, + Wait, 'ushed an' anxious, fer the comin' fray. +And many lusty barrackers of noon +Desert 'im one by one--traitors so soon! + +'E's out er form! 'E 'asn't trained enough! + They mark their sickly champeen on the stage, +An' narked, the sun, 'is backer, in a huff, + Sneaks outer sight, red in the face wiv rage. +W'ile gloomy roosters, they 'oo made the morn +Ring wiv 'is praises, creep to bed forlorn. + + +All faint an' groggy grows the beaten Day; + 'E staggers drunkenly about the ring; +An owl 'oots jeerin'ly across the way, + An' bats come out to mock the fallin' King. +Now, wiv a jolt, Night spreads 'im on the floor, +An' all the west grows ruddy wiv 'is gore. + +A single, vulgar star leers from the sky + An' in derision, rudely mutters, "Yah!" +The moon, Night's conkerbine, comes glidin' by + An' laughs a 'eartless, silvery "Ha-ha!" +Scorned, beaten, Day gives up the 'opeless fight, +An' drops 'is bundle in the lap o' Night. + + * * * * * * * * + +So goes each day, like some celeschil mill, + E'er since I met that shyin' little peach. +'Er bonzer voice! I 'ear its music still, + As when she guv that promise fer the beach. +An', square an' all, no matter 'ow yeh start, +The commin end of most of us is--Tart. + + +IV. Doreen + + +"I wish't yeh menat it, Bill." Oh, 'ow me 'eart + Went out to 'er that evnin' on the beach. +I knew she weren't no ordinary tart, + My little peach! + +To 'ear 'er voice! Its gentle sorter tone, + Like soft dream-music of some Dago band. +An' me all out; an' 'oldin' in me own + 'Er little 'and. +An' 'ow she blushed! O, strike! it was divine +The way she raised 'er shinin' eyes to mine. + +'Er eyes! Soft in the moon; such BOSHTER eyes! +An' when they sight a bloke...O, spare me days! +'E goes all loose inside; such glamour lies + In 'er sweet gaze. +It makes 'im all ashamed uv wot 'e's been +To look inter the eyes of my Doreen. + + * * * * + +The wet sands glistened, an' the gleamin' moon + Shone yeller on the sea, all streakin' down. +A band was playin' some soft, dreamy choon; + An' up the town +We 'eard the distant tram-cars whir an' clash. +An' there I told Per 'ow I'd done me dash. + +"I wish't yeh meant it." 'Struth! And did I, fair? + A bloke 'ud be a dawg to kid a skirt +Like her. An' me well knowin' she was square. + It 'ud be dirt! +'E'd be no man to point wiv her, an' kid. +I meant it honest; an' she knoo I did. + +She knoo. I've done me block in on her, straight. + A cove 'as got to think some time in life +An' get some decent tart, ere it's too late, + To be 'is wife. +But, Gawd! 'Oo would 'a' thort it could 'a' been +My luck to strike the likes of Per?...Doreen! + +Aw, I can stand their chuckin' off, I can. + It's 'ard; an' I'd delight to take 'em on. +The dawgs! But it gets that way wiv a man + When 'e's fair gone. +She'll sight no stoush; an' so I have to take +Their mag, an' do a duck fer her sweet sake. + +Fer 'er sweet sake I've gone and chucked it clean: + The pubs an' schools an' all that leery game. +Fer when a bloke 'as come to know Doreen, + It ain't the same. +There's 'igher things, she sez, for blokes to do. +An' I am 'arf believin' that it's true. + +Yes, 'igher things--that wus the way she spoke; + An' when she looked at me I sorter felt +That bosker feelin' that comes o'er a bloke, + An' makes 'im melt; +Makes 'im all 'ot to maul 'er, an' to shove +'Is arms about'er...Bli'me? but it's love! + +That's wot it is. An' when a man 'as grown + Like that 'e gets a sorter yearn inside +To be a little 'ero on 'is own; + An' see the pride +Glow in the eyes of 'er 'e calls 'is queen; +An' 'ear 'er say 'e is a shine champeen. + +"I wish't yeh meant it," I can 'ear 'er yet, + My bit o' fluff! The moon was shinin' bright, +Turnin' the waves all yeller where it set-- + A bonzer night! +The sparklin' sea all sorter gold an' green; +An' on the pier the band--O, 'Ell!... Doreen! + + + +V. The Play + + +"Wots in a name?" she sez...An' then she sighs, +An' clasps 'er little 'ands, an' rolls 'er eyes. +"A rose," she sez, "be any other name +Would smell the same. +Oh, w'erefore art you Romeo, young sir? +Chuck yer ole pot, an' change yer moniker!" + +Doreen an' me, we bin to see a show-- +The swell two-dollar touch. Bong tong, yeh know. +A chair apiece wiv velvit on the seat; +A slap-up treat. +The drarmer's writ be Shakespeare, years ago, +About a barmy goat called Romeo. + +"Lady, be yonder moon I swear!" sez 'e. +An' then 'e climbs up on the balkiney; +An' there they smooge a treat, wiv pretty words +Like two love-birds. +I nudge Doreen. She whispers, "Ain't it grand!" +'Er eyes is shinin'; an' I squeeze 'er 'and. + +"Wot's in a name?" she sez. 'Struth, I dunno. +Billo is just as good as Romeo. +She may be Juli-er or Juli-et-- +'E loves 'er yet. +If she's the tart 'e wants, then she's 'is queen, +Names never count...But ar, I like "Doreen!" + +A sweeter, dearer sound I never 'eard; +Ther's music 'angs around that little word, +Doreen!...But wot was this I starts to say +About the play? +I'm off me beat. But when a bloke's in love +'Is thorts turns 'er way, like a 'omin' dove. + +This Romeo 'e's lurkin' wiv a crew-- +A dead tough crowd o' crooks--called Montague. +'Is cliner's push--wot's nicknamed Capulet-- +They 'as 'em set. +Fair narks they are, jist like them back-street clicks, +Ixcep' they fights wiv skewers 'stid o' bricks. + +Wot's in a name? Wot's in a string o' words? +They scraps in ole Verona with the'r swords, +An' never give a bloke a stray dog's chance, +An' that's Romance. +But when they deals it out wiv bricks an' boots +In Little Lon., they're low, degraded broots. + +Wot's jist plain stoush wiv us, right 'ere to-day, +Is "valler" if yer fur enough away. +Some time, some writer bloke will do the trick +Wiv Ginger Mick, +Of Spadger's Lane. 'E'LL be a Romeo, +When 'e's bin dead five 'undred years or so. + +Fair Juli-et, she gives 'er boy the tip. +Sez she: "Don't sling that crowd o' mine no lip; +An' if you run agin a Capulet, +Jist do a get." +'E swears 'e's done wiv lash; 'e'll chuck it clean. +(Same as I done when I first met Doreen.) + +They smooge some more at that. Ar, strike me blue! +It gimme Joes to sit an' watch them two! +'E'd break away an' start to say good-bye, +An' then she'd sigh +"Ow, Ro-me-o!" an' git a strangle-holt, +An' 'ang around 'im like she feared 'e'd bolt. + +Nex' day 'e words a gorspil cove about +A secret wedding; 'an they plan it out. +'E spouts a piece about 'ow 'e's bewitched: +Then they git 'itched. +Now, 'ere's the place where I fair git the pip! +She's 'is ofr keeps, an' yet 'e lets 'er slip! + +Ar! but'e makes me sick! A fair gazob! +'E's jist the glarsey on the soulful sob, +'E'll sigh and spruik, an' 'owl a love-sick vow-- +(The silly cow!) +But when 'e's got 'er, spliced an' on the straight +'E crools the pitch, an' tries to kid it's Fate. + +Aw! Fate me foot! Instid of slopin' soon +As 'e was wed, off on 'is 'oneymoon, +'Im an' 'is cobber, called Mick Curio, +They 'ave to go +An' mix it wiv that push o' Capulets. +They look fer trouble; an' it's wot they gets. + +A tug named Tyball (cousin to the skirt) +Sprags 'em an' makes a start to sling off dirt. +Nex' minnit there's a reel ole ding-dong go-- +'Arf round or so. +Mick Curio, 'e gets it in the neck, +"Ar rats!" 'e sez, an' passes in 'is check. + +Quite natchril, Romeo gits wet as 'ell. +"It's me or you!" 'e 'owls, an' wiv a yell, +Plunks Tyball through the gizzard wiv 'is sword, +'Ow I ongcored! +"Put in the boot!" I sez. "Put in the boot!" +"'Ush!" sez Doreen..."Shame!" sez some silly coot. + +Then Romeo, 'e dunno wot to do. +The cops gits busy, like they allwiz do, +An' nose around until 'e gits blue funk +An' does a bunk. +They wants 'is tart to wed some other guy. +"Ah, strike!" she sez. "I wish that I could die!" + +Now, this 'ere gorspil bloke's a fair shrewd 'ead. +Sez 'e "I'll dope yeh, so they'll THINK yer dead." +(I tips 'e was a cunnin' sort, wot knoo +A thing or two.) +She takes 'is knock-out drops, up in 'er room: +They think she's snuffed, an' plant 'er in 'er tomb. + +Then things gits mixed a treat an' starts to whirl. +'Ere's Romeo comes back an' finds 'is girl +Tucked in 'er little coffing, cold an' stiff, +An' in a jiff, +'E swallows lysol, throws a fancy fit, +'Ead over turkey, an' 'is soul 'as flit. + +Then Juli-et wakes up an' sees 'im there, +Turns on the water-works an' tears 'er 'air, +"Dear love," she sez, "I cannot live alone!" +An' wiv a moan, +She grabs 'is pockit knife, an' ends 'er cares... +_"Peanuts or lollies!_" sez a boy upstairs. + + + +VI. The Stror 'at Coot + + +Ar, wimmin! Wot a blinded fool I've been! + I arsts meself, wot else could I ixpeck? +I done me block complete on this Doreen, + An' now me 'eart is broke, me life's a wreck! +The dreams I dreamed, the dilly thorts I thunk +Is up the pole, an' joy 'as done a bunk. + +Wimmin! O strike! I orter known the game! + Their tricks is crook, their arts is all dead snide. +The 'ole world over tarts is all the same; + All soft an' smilin' wiv no 'eart inside. +But she fair doped me wiv 'er winnin' ways, +Then crooled me pitch fer all me mortal days. + +They're all the same! A man 'as got to be + Stric' master if 'e wants to snare 'em sure. +'E 'as to take a stand an' let 'em see + That triflin' is a thing'e won't indure. +'E wants to show 'em that 'e 'olds command, +So they will smooge an' feed out of 'is 'and. + +'E needs to make 'em feel 'e is the boss, + An' kid 'e's careless uv the joys they give. +'E 'as to make 'em think 'e'll feel no loss + To part wiv any tart 'e's trackin' wiv. +That all their pretty ways is crook pretence +Is plain to any bloke wiv common-sense. + +But when the birds is nestin' in the spring, + An' when the soft green leaves is in the bud, +'E drops 'is bundle to some fluffy thing. + 'E pays 'er 'omage--an' 'is name is Mud. +She plays wiv'im an' kids 'im on a treat, +Until she 'as 'im crawlin' at 'er feet. + +An' then, when 'e's fair orf 'is top wiv love, + When she 'as got 'im good an' 'ad 'er fun, +She slings 'im over like a carst-orf glove, + To let the other tarts see wot she's done. +All vanity, deceit an' 'eartless kid! +I orter known; an', spare me days, I did! + +I knoo. But when I looked into 'er eyes-- + Them shinin' eyes o' blue all soft wiv love +Wiv MIMIC love--they seemed to 'ipnertize. + I wus content to place 'er 'igh above. +I wus content to make of 'er a queen; +An' so she seemed them days...O, 'struth!...Doreen! + +I knoo. But when I stroked 'er glossy 'air + Wiv rev'rint 'ands, 'er cheek pressed close to mine, +Me lonely life seemed robbed of all its care; + I dreams me dreams, an' 'ope begun to shine. +An' when she 'eld 'er lips fer me to kiss... +Ar, wot's the use? I'm done wiv all o' this! + +Wimmin!...Oh, I ain't jealous! Spare me days! + Me? Jealous uv a knock-kneed coot like that! +'Im! Wiv 'is cute stror 'at an' pretty ways! + I'd be a mug to squeal or whip the cat. +I'm glad, I am--glad 'cos I know I'm free! +There ain't no call to tork o' jealousy. + +I tells meself I'm well out o' the game; + Fer look, I mighter married 'er-an' then.... +Ar strike! 'Er voice wus music when my name + Wus on 'er lips on them glad ev'nin's when +We useter meet. An' then to think she'd go... +No, I ain't jealous--but--Ar, I dunno! + +I took a derry on this stror 'at coot + First time I seen 'im dodgin' round Doreen. +'Im, wiv 'is giddy tie an' Yankee soot, + Ferever yappin' like a tork-machine +About "The Hoffis" where 'e 'ad a grip.... +The way 'e smiled at 'er give me the pip! + +She sez I stoushed 'im, when I promised fair + To chuck it, even to a friendly spar. +Stoushed 'im! I never roughed 'is pretty 'air! + I only spanked 'im gentle, fer 'is mar. +If I'd 'a' jabbed 'im once, there would 'a' been +An inquest; an' I sez so to Doreen. + +I mighter took an' cracked 'im in the street, + When she was wiv 'im there lars' Fridee night. +But don't I keep me temper when we met? + An' don't I raise me lid an' act perlite? +I only jerks me elbow in 'is ribs, +To give the gentle office to 'is nibs. + +Stoushed 'im! I owns I met 'im on the quiet, + An' worded 'im about a small affair; +An' when 'e won't put up 'is 'ands to fight-- + ('E sez, "Fer public brawls 'e didn't care")-- +I lays 'im 'cross me knee, the mother's joy, +An' smacks 'im 'earty, like a naughty boy. + +An' now Doreen she sez I've broke me vow, + An' mags about this coot's pore, "wounded pride." +An' then, o' course, we 'as a ding-dong row, + Wiv 'ot an' stormy words on either side. +She sez I done it outer jealousy, +An' so, we parts fer ever--'er an' me. + +Me jealous? Jealous of that cross-eyed cow! + I set 'im 'cos I couldn't sight 'is face. +'Is yappin' fair got on me nerves, some'ow. + I couldn't stand 'im 'angin' round 'er place. +A coot like that!...But it don't matter much, +She's welkim to 'im if she fancies such. + +I swear I'll never track wiv 'er no more; + I'll never look on 'er side o' the street-- +Unless she comes an' begs me pardin for + Them things she said to me in angry 'eat. +She can't ixpeck fer me to smooge an' crawl. +I ain't at ANY woman's beck an' call. + +Wimmin! I've took a tumble to their game. + I've got the 'ole bang tribe o' cliners set! +The 'ole world over they are all the same: + Crook to the core the bunch of 'em--an' yet +We could 'a' been that 'appy, 'er an' me... +But, wot's it matter? Ain't I glad I'm free? + +A bloke wiv commin-sense 'as got to own + There's little 'appiness in married life. +The smoogin' game is better left alone, + Fer tarts is few that makes the ideel wife. +An' them's the sort that loves wivout disguise, +An' thinks the sun shines in their 'usban's' eyes. + +But when the birds is matin' in the spring, + An' when the tender leaves begin to bud, +A feelin' comes--a dilly sorter thing +That seems to sorter swamp 'im like a flood. +An' when the fever 'ere inside 'im burns, +Then freedom ain't the thing fer wot 'e yearns. + +But I 'ave chucked it all. An' yet--I own + I dreams me dreams when soft Spring breezes stirs; +An' often, when I'm moonin' 'ere alone, + A lispin' maid, wiv 'air an' eyes like 'ers, +'Oo calls me "dad," she climbs upon me knee, +An' yaps 'er pretty baby tork to me. + +I sorter see a little 'ouse, it seems, + Wiv someone waitin' for me at the gate... +Ar, where's the sense in dreamin' barmy dreams, + I've dreamed before, and nearly woke too late. +Sich 'appiness could never last fer long, +We're strangers--'less she owns that she was wrong. + +To call 'er back I'll never lift a 'and; + She'll never 'ear frum me by word or sign. +Per'aps, some day, she'll come to understand + The mess she's made o' this 'ere life o' mine. +Oh, I ain't much to look at, I admit. +But'im! The knock-kneed, swivel-eyed misfit?... + + + +VII. The Siren + + +She sung a song; an' I sat silent there, +Wiv bofe 'ands grippin' 'ard on me chair; + Me 'eart, that yesterdee I thort wus broke +Wiv 'umpin sich a 'eavy load o' care, + Come swelling in me throat like I would choke. +I felt 'ot blushes climbin' to me 'air. + +'Twas like that feelin' when the Spring wind breaves +Sad music in the sof'ly rustlin' leaves. + An' when a bloke sits down an' starts to chew +Crook thorts, wivout quite knowin' why 'e grieves + Fer things 'e's done 'e didn't ort to do-- +Fair winded wiv the 'eavy sighs 'e 'eaves. + +She sung a song; an' orl at once I seen +The kind o' crool an' 'eartless broot I been. + In ev'ry word I read it like a book-- +The slanter game I'd played wiv my Doreen-- + I 'eard it in 'er song; an' in 'er look +I seen wot made me feel fair rotten mean. + +Poor, 'urt Doreen! My tender bit o' fluff! +Ar, men don't understand; they're fur too rough; + Their ways is fur too coarse wiv lovin' tarts; +They never gives 'em symperthy enough. + They treats 'em 'arsh; they tramples on their 'earts, +Becos their own crool 'earts is leather-tough. + +She sung a song; an' orl them bitter things +That chewin' over lovers' quarrils brings + Guv place to thorts of sorrer an' remorse. +Like when some dilly punter goes an' slings + 'Is larst, lone deener on some stiffened 'orse, +An' learns them vain regrets wot 'urts an' stings. + +'Twas at a beano where I lobs along +To drown them memories o' fancied wrong. + I swears I never knoo that she'd be there. +But when I met 'er eye--O, 'struth, 'twas strong! + 'Twas bitter strong, that jolt o' dull despair! +'Er look o' scorn!...An' then, she sung a song. + +The choon was one o' them sad, mournful things +That ketch yeh in the bellers 'ere, and brings + Tears to yer eyes. The words was uv a tart +'Oo's trackin' wiv a silly coot 'oo slings + 'Er love aside, an' breaks 'er tender 'eart.... +But 'twasn't that; it was the way she sings. + +To 'ear 'er voice!...A bloke 'ud be a log +'Oo kep' 'is block. Me mind wus in a fog + Of sorrer for to think 'ow I wus wrong; +Ar, I 'ave been a fair ungrateful 'og! + The feelin' that she put into that song +'Ud melt the 'eart-strings of a chiner dog. + +I listens wiv me 'eart up in me throat; +I drunk in ev'ry word an' ev'ry note. + Tears trembles in 'er voice when she tells 'ow +That tart snuffed out becos 'e never wrote. + An' then I seen 'ow I wus like that cow. +Wiv suddin shame me guilty soul wus smote. + +Doreen she never looked my way; but stood +'Arf turned away, an' beefed it out reel good, + Until she sang that bit about the grave; +"Too late 'e learned 'e 'ad misunderstood!" + An' then--Gorstrooth! The pleadin' look she gave +Fair in me face 'ud melt a'eart o' wood. + +I dunno 'ow I seen that evenin' thro'. +They muster thort I was 'arf shick, I knoo. + But I 'ad 'urt Doreen wivout no call; +I seen me dooty, wot I 'ad to do. + O, strike! I could 'a' blubbed before 'em all! +But I sat tight, an' never cracked a boo. + +An' when at larst the tarts they makes a rise, +A lop-eared coot wiv 'air down to 'is eyes + 'E 'ooks on to Doreen, an' starts to roam +Fer 'ome an' muvver. I lines up an' cries, + "'An's orf! I'm seein' this 'ere cliner 'ome!" +An' there we left 'im, gapin' wiv surprise. + +She never spoke; she never said no word; +But walked beside me like she never 'eard. + I swallers 'ard, an' starts to coax an' plead, +I sez I'm dead ashamed o' wot's occurred. + She don't reply; she never takes no 'eed; +Jist stares before 'er like a startled bird. + +I tells 'er, never can no uvver tart +Be 'arf wot she is, if we 'ave to part. + I tells 'er that me life will be a wreck. +It ain't no go. But when I makes a start + To walk away, 'er arms is roun' me neck. +"Ah, Kid!" she sobs. "Yeh nearly broke me 'eart!" + +I dunno wot I done or wot I said. +But 'struth! I'll not forgit it till I'm dead-- + That night when 'ope back in me brisket lobs: +'Ow my Doreen she lays 'er little 'ead + Down on me shoulder 'ere, an' sobs an' sobs; +An' orl the lights goes sorter blurred an' red. + +Say, square an' all--It don't seem right, some'ow, +To say such things; but wot I'm feelin' now + 'As come at times, I s'pose, to uvver men +When you 'ave 'ad a reel ole ding-dong row, + Say, ain't it bonzer makin' up agen? +Straight wire, it's almost worth...Ar, I'm a cow! + +To think I'd ever seek to 'arm a 'air +Of 'er dear 'ead agen! My oath, I swear + No more I'll roust on 'er in angry 'eat! +But still, she never seemed to me so fair; + She never wus so tender or so sweet +As when she smooged beneath the lamplight there. + +She's never been so lovin' wiv 'er gaze; +So gentle wiv 'er pretty wimmin's ways. + I tells 'er she's me queen, me angel, too. +"Ah, no, I ain't no angel, Kid," she says. + "I'm jist a woman, an' I loves yeh true! +An' so I'll love yeh all me mortal days!" + +She sung a song....'Ere, in me barmy style, +I sets orl tarts; for in me hour o' trile + Me soul was withered be a woman's frown, +An' broodin' care come roostin' on me dile. + She sung a song....Me 'eart, wiv woe carst down, +Wus raised to 'Eaven be a woman's smile. + + + +VIII. Mar + + +"'Er pore dear par," she sez, "'e kept a store"; +An' then she weeps an' stares 'ard at the floor. + "'Twas thro' 'is death," she sez, "we wus rejuiced +To this," she sez...An' then she weeps some more. + +"'Er Par," she sez, "me poor late 'usband, kept +An 'ay an' corn store. 'E'd no faults ixcept + 'Im fallin' 'eavy orf a load o' charf +W'ich--killed 'im--on the---" 'Struth! But 'ow she wept. + +She blows 'er nose an' sniffs. "'E would 'a' made" +She sez "a lot of money in the trade. + But, 'im took orf so sudden-like, we found +'E 'adn't kept 'is life insurince paid. + +"To think," she sez, "a child o' mine should be +Rejuiced to workin' in a factory! + If 'er pore Par 'e 'adn't died," she sobs... +I sez, "It wus a bit o' luck for me." + +Then I gits red as 'ell, "That is--I mean," +I sez, "I mighter never met Doreen +If 'e 'ad not"--an' 'ere I lose me block--"I 'ope," +I sez, "'e snuffed it quick and clean." + +An' that wus 'ow I made me first deboo. +I'd dodged it cunnin' fer a month or two. + Doreen she sez, "You'll 'ave to meet my Mar, +SOME day," she sez. An' so I seen it thro'. + +I'd pictered some stern female in a cap +Wot puts the fear o' Gawd into a chap. +An' 'ere she wus, aweepin' in 'er tea +An' drippin' moistcher like a leaky tap. + +Two dilly sorter dawgs made outer delf +Stares 'ard at me frum orf the mantelshelf. + I seemed to symperthise wiv them there pups; +I felt so stiff an' brittle-like meself. + +Clobber? Me trosso, 'ead to foot, wus noo-- +Got up regardless, fer this interview. + Stiff shirt, a Yankee soot split up the back, +A tie wiv yeller spots an' stripes o' blue. + +Me cuffs kep' playin' wiv me nervis fears +Me patent leathers nearly brought the tears + An' there I sits wiv, "Yes, mum. Thanks. Indeed?" +Me stand-up collar sorin' orf me ears. + +"Life's 'ard," she sez, an' then she brightens up. +"Still, we 'ave alwus 'ad our bite and sup. + Doreen's been SICH a help; she 'as indeed. +Some more tea, Willy? 'Ave another cup." + +Willy! O 'ell! 'Ere wus a flamin' pill! +A moniker that alwus makes me ill. + "If it's the same to you, mum," I replies +"I answer quicker to the name of Bill." + +Up goes 'er 'ands an' eyes, "That vulgar name!" +No, Willy, but it isn't all the same, + My fucher son must be respectable." +"Orright," I sez, "I s'pose it's in the game." + +"Me fucher son," she sez, "right on frum this +Must not take anythink I say amiss. + I know me jooty be me son-in-lor; +So, Willy, come an' give yer Mar a kiss." + +I done it. Tho' l dunno 'ow I did. +"Dear boy," she sez, "to do as you are bid. + Be kind to 'er," she sobs, "my little girl!" +An' then I kiss Doreen. Sez she "Ah Kid!" + +Doreen! Ar 'ow 'er pretty eyes did shine. +No sight on earth or 'Eaving's 'arf so fine, + An' as they looked at me she seemed to say +"I'm proud of 'im, I am, an' 'e is mine." + +There wus a sorter glimmer in 'er eye, +An 'appy, nervis look, 'arf proud, 'arf shy; + I seen 'er in me mind be'ind the cups +In our own little kipsie, bye an' bye. + +An' then when Mar-in-lor an' me began +To tork of 'ouse'old things an' scheme an' plan, + A sudden thort fair jolts me where I live: +"These is my wimmin folk! An' I'm a man!" + +It's wot they calls responsibility. +All of a 'eap that feelin' come to me; + An' somew'ere in me 'ead I seemed to feel +A sneakin' sort o' wish that I was free. + +'Ere's me 'oo never took no 'eed o' life, +Investin' in a mar-in-lor an' wife: + Someone to battle fer besides meself, +Somethink to love an' shield frum care and strife. + +It makes yeh solim when yeh come to think +Wot love and marridge means. Ar, strike me pink! + It ain't all sighs and kisses. It's yer life. +An' 'ere's me tremblin' on the bloomin' brink. + +"'Er pore dead Par," she sez, an' gulps a sob. +An' then I tells 'er 'ow I got a job, + As storeman down at Jones' printin' joint, +A decent sorter cop at fifty bob. + +Then things get 'ome-like; an' we torks till late, +An' tries to tease Doreen to fix the date, + An' she gits suddin soft and tender-like, +An' cries a bit, when we parts at the gate. + +An' as I'm moochin' 'omeward frum the car +A suddin notion stops me wiv a jar-- +Wot if Doreen, I thinks, should grow to be, +A fat ole weepin' willer like 'er Mar! + +O, 'struth! It won't bear thinkin' of! It's crook! +An' I'm a mean, unfeelin' dawg to look + At things like that. Doreen's Doreen to me, +The sweetest peach on w'ich a man wus shook. + +'Er "pore dear Par"...I s'pose 'e 'ad 'is day, +An' kissed an' smooged an' loved 'er in 'is way. +An' wed an' took 'is chances like a man-- +But, Gawd, this splicin' racket ain't all play. + +Love is a gamble, an' there ain't no certs. +Some day, I s'pose, I'll git wise to the skirts, + An' learn to take the bitter wiv the sweet... +But, strike me purple! "Willy!" THAT'S wot 'urts. + + + +IX. Pilot Cove + + +Young friend," 'e sez...Young friend! + Well, spare me days! +Yeh'd think I wus 'is own white-'eaded boy-- +The queer ole finger, wiv 'is gentle ways. + "Young friend," 'e sez, "I wish't yeh bofe great joy." + The langwidge that them parson blokes imploy +Fair tickles me. The way'e bleats an' brays! + "Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez...Yes, my Doreen an' me + We're gettin' hitched, all straight an' on the square. +Fer when I torks about the registry-- + 0 'oly wars! yeh should 'a' seen 'er stare; + "The registry?" she sez, "I wouldn't dare! +I know a clergyman we'll go an' see"... + "Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez. An' then 'e chats me straight; + An' spouts of death, an' 'ell, an' mortal sins. +"You reckernize this step you contemplate + Is grave? 'e sez. An' I jist stan's an' grins; + Fer when I chips, Doreen she kicks me shins. +"Yes, very 'oly is the married state, + Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez. An' then 'e mags a lot + Of jooty an' the spiritchuil life, +To which I didn't tumble worth a jot. + "I'm sure," 'e sez, "as you will 'ave a wife + 'Oo'll 'ave a noble infl'ince on yer life. +'Oo is 'er gardjin?" I sez, "'Er ole pot"-- + "Young friend!" 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez. "Oh fix yer thorts on 'igh! + Orl marridges is registered up there! +An' you must cleave unto 'er till yeh die, + An' cherish 'er wiv love an' tender care. + E'n in the days when she's no longer fair +She's still yer wife," 'e sez. "Ribuck," sez I. + "YOUNG FRIEND!" 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez--I sez, "Now, listen 'ere: + This isn't one o' them impetchus leaps. +There ain't no tart a 'undreth part so dear + As 'er. She 'as me 'eart an' soul fer keeps!" + An' then Doreen, she turns away an' weeps; +But 'e jist smiles. "Yer deep in love, 'tis clear, + Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez--an' tears wus in 'is eyes-- + "Strive 'ard. Fer many, many years I've lived. +An' l kin but recall wiv tears an' sighs + The lives of some I've seen in marridge gived." + "My Gawd!" I sez. "I'll strive as no bloke strivved! +Fer don't I know I've copped a bonzer prize?" + "Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez. An' in 'is gentle way, + 'E pats the shoulder of my dear Doreen. +"I've solem'ized grand weddin's in me day, + But 'ere's the sweetest little maid I've seen. + She's fit fer any man, to be 'is queen; +An' you're more forchinit than you kin say, + Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez...A queer ole pilot bloke, + Wiv silver 'air. The gentle way 'e dealt +Wiv 'er, the soft an' kindly way 'e spoke + To my Doreen, 'ud make a statcher melt. + I tell yer, square an' all, I sorter felt +A kiddish kind o' feelin' like I'd choke... + "Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez, "you two on Choosday week, + Is to be joined in very 'oly bonds. +To break them vows I 'opes yeh'll never seek; + Fer I could curse them 'usbands 'oo absconds!" + "I'll love 'er till I snuff it," I responds. +"Ah, that's the way I likes to 'ear yeh speak, + Young friend," 'e sez. + +"Young friend," 'e sez--an' then me 'and 'e grips + "I wish't yeh luck, you an' yer lady fair. +Sweet maid." An' sof'ly wiv 'is finger-tips, + 'E takes an' strokes me cliner's shinin' 'air. + An' when I seen 'er standin' blushin' there, +I turns an' kisses 'er, fair on the lips. + "Young friend!" 'e sez. + + + +X. Hitched + + +"An'--wilt--yeh--take--this--woman--fer--to--be-- + Yer--weddid--wife?"...O, strike me! Will I wot? +TAKE 'er? Doreen? 'E stan's there ARSTIN' me! + As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not! + TAKE 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind was got +Like cigarette-cards, fer the arstin'. Still, + I does me stunt in this 'ere hitchin' rot, +An' speaks me piece: "Righto!" I sez, "I will." + +"I will," I sez. An' tho' a joyful shout + Come from me bustin' 'eart--I know it did-- +Me voice got sorter mangled comin' out, + An' makes me whisper like a frightened kid. + "I will," I squeaks. An' I'd 'a' give a quid +To 'ad it on the quite, wivout this fuss, + An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid +To see this solim hitchin' up of us. + +"Fer--rich-er--er--fer--por-er." So 'e bleats. + "In--sick-ness--an'--in-ealth,"...An' there I stands, +An' dunno'arf the chatter I repeats, + Nor wot the 'ell to do wiv my two 'ands. + But 'e don't 'urry puttin' on our brands-- +This white-'aired pilot-bloke--but gives it lip, + Dressed in 'is little shirt, wiv frills an' bands. +"In sick-ness--an'--in--" Ar! I got the pip! +An' once I missed me turn; an' Ginger Mick, + 'Oo's my best-man, 'e ups an' beefs it out. +"I will!" 'e 'owls; an' fetches me a kick. + "Your turn to chin!" 'e tips wiv a shout. + An' there I'm standin' like a gawky lout. +(Aw, spare me! But I seemed to be ALL 'ands!) + An' wonders wot 'e's goin' crook about, +Wiv 'arf a mind to crack 'im where 'e stands. + +O, lumme! But ole Ginger was a trick! + Got up regardless fer the solim rite. +('E 'awks the bunnies when 'e toils, does Mick) + An' twice I saw 'im feelin' fer a light + To start a fag; an' trembles lest'e might, +Thro' force o' habit like. 'E's nervis too; + That's plain, fer orl 'is air o' bluff an' skite; +An' jist as keen as me to see it thro'. + +But, 'struth, the wimmin! 'Ow they love this frill! + Fer Auntie Liz, an' Mar, o' course, wus there; +An' Mar's two uncles' wives, an' Cousin Lil, + An' 'arf a dozen more to grin and stare. + I couldn't make me 'ands fit anywhere! +I felt like I wus up afore the Beak! + But my Doreen she never turns a 'air, +Nor misses once when it's 'er turn to speak. + +Ar, strike! No more swell marridges fer me! + It seems a blinded year afore 'e's done. +We could 'a' fixed it in the registree + Twice over 'fore this cove 'ad 'arf begun. + I s'pose the wimmin git some sorter fun +Wiv all this guyver, an' 'is nibs's shirt. + But, seems to me, it takes the bloomin' bun, +This stylish splicin' uv a bloke an' skirt. + +"To--be--yer--weddid--wife--" Aw, take a pull! + Wot in the 'ell's 'e think I come there for? +An' so 'e drawls an' drones until I'm full, + An' wants to do a duck clean out the door. + An' yet, fer orl 'is 'igh-falutin' jor, +Ole Snowy wus a reel good-meanin' bloke. + If 'twasn't fer the 'oly look 'e wore +Yeh'd think 'e piled it on jist fer a joke. + +An', when at last 'e shuts 'is little book, + I 'eaves a sigh that nearly bust me vest. +But 'Eavens! Now 'ere's muvver goin' crook! + An' sobbin' awful on me manly chest! + (I wish she'd give them water-works a rest.) +"My little girl!" she 'owls. "O, treat'er well! + She's young--too young to leave 'er muvver's nest!" +"Orright, ole chook," I nearly sez. Oh, 'ell! + +An' then we 'as a beano up at Mar's-- + A slap-up feed, wiv wine an' two big geese. +Doreen sits next ter me, 'er eyes like stars. + O, 'ow I wished their blessed yap would cease! + The Parson-bloke 'e speaks a little piece, +That makes me blush an' 'ang me silly 'ead. + 'E sez 'e 'opes our lovin' will increase-- +I LIKES that pilot fer the things 'e said. + +'E sez Doreen an' me is in a boat, + An' sailin' on the matrimonial sea. +'E sez as 'ow 'e 'opes we'll allus float + In peace an' joy, from storm an' danger free. + Then muvver gits to weepin' in 'er tea; +An' Auntie Liz sobs like a winded colt; + An' Cousin Lil comes 'round an' kisses me; +Until I feel I'll 'AVE to do a bolt. + +Then Ginger gits end-up an' makes a speech-- + ('E'd 'ad a couple, but 'e wasn't shick.) +"My cobber 'ere," 'e sez, "'as copped a peach! + Of orl the barrer-load she is the pick! + I 'opes 'e won't fergit 'is pals too quick +As wus 'is frien's in olden days, becors, + I'm trustin', later on," sez Ginger Mick, +"To celebrate the chris'nin'."...'Oly wars! + +At last Doreen an' me we gits away, + An' leaves 'em doin' nothin' to the scran. +(We're honey-moonin' down beside the Bay.) + I gives a 'arf a dollar to the man + Wot drives the cab; an' like two kids we ran +To ketch the train--Ah, strike! I could 'a' flown! + We gets the carridge right agen the van. +She whistles, jolts, an' starts...An' we're alone! + +Doreen an' me! My precious bit o' fluff! + Me own true weddid wife!...An' we're alone! +She seems so frail, an' me so big an' rough-- + I dunno wot this feelin' is that's grown + Inside me 'ere that makes me feel I own +A thing so tender like I fear to squeeze + Too 'ard fer fear she'll break...Then, wiv a groan +I starts to 'ear a coot call, "Tickets, please!" + +You could 'a' outed me right on the spot! + I wus so rattled when that porter spoke. +Fer, 'struth! them tickets I 'ad fair forgot! + But 'e jist laughs, an' takes it fer a joke. + "We must ixcuse," 'e sez, "new-married folk." +An' I pays up, an' grins, an' blushes red.... +It shows 'ow married life improves a bloke: +If I'd bin single I'd 'a' punched 'is head! + + + +XI. Beef Tea + + +She never magged; she never said no word; +But sat an' looked at me an' never stirred. + I could 'a' bluffed it out if she 'ad been +Fair narked, an' let me 'ave it wiv 'er tongue; +But silence told me 'ow 'er 'eart wus wrung. + Poor 'urt Doreen! + +Gorstruth! I'd sooner fight wiv fifty men +Than git one look like that frum 'er agen! + +She never moved; she never spoke no word; +That 'urt look in 'er eyes, like some scared bird: + "'Ere is the man I loved," it seemed to say. +"'E's mine, this crawlin' thing, an' I'm 'is wife; +Tied up fer good; an' orl me joy in life + Is chucked away!" +If she 'ad bashed me I'd 'a felt no 'urt! +But 'ere she treats me like--like I wus dirt. + +'Ow is a man to guard agen that look? +Fer other wimmin, when the'r blokes go crook, + An' lobs 'ome wiv the wages uv a jag, +They smashes things an' carries on a treat +An' 'owls an' scolds an' wakes the bloomin' street + Wiv noisy mag. +But 'er--she never speaks; she never stirs... +I drops me bundle...An' the game is 'ers. + +Jist two months wed! Eight weeks uv married bliss +Wiv my Doreen, an' now it's come to this! + Wot wus I thinkin' uv? Gawd! I ain't fit +To kiss the place 'er little feet 'as been! +'Er that I called me wife, me own Doreen! + Fond dreams'as flit; +Love's done a bunk, an' joy is up the pole; +An' shame an' sorrer's roostin' in me soul. + +'Twus orl becors uv Ginger Mick--the cow! +(I wish't I 'ad 'im 'ere to deal wiv now! + I'd pass 'im one, I would! 'E ain't no man!) +I meets 'im Choosdee ev'nin' up the town. +"Wot O," 'e chips me. "Kin yeh keep one down?" + I sez I can. +We 'as a couple; then meets three er four +Flash coves I useter know, an' 'as some more. + +"'Ow are yeh on a little gamble, Kid?" +Sez Ginger Mick. "Lars' night I'm on four quid. + Come 'round an' try yer luck at Steeny's school." +"No," sez me conscience. Then I thinks, "Why not? +An' buy 'er presents if I wins a pot? + A blazin' fool +I wus. Fer 'arf a mo' I 'as a fight; +Then conscience skies the wipe...Sez I "Orright." + +Ten minutes later I was back once more, +Kip in me 'and, on Steeny Isaac's floor, + Me luck was in an' I wus 'eadin' good. +Yes, back agen amongst the same old crew! +An' orl the time down in me 'eart I knew + I never should... +Nex' thing I knows it's after two o'clock-- +Two in the mornin'! An' I've done me block! + +"Wot odds?" I thinks. "I'm in fer it orright." +An' so I stops an' gambles or] the night; + An' bribes me conscience wiv the gilt I wins. +But when I comes out in the cold, 'ard dawn +I know I've crooled me pitch; me soul's in pawn. + My flamin' sins +They 'its me in a 'eap right where I live; +Fer I 'ave broke the solim vow I give. + +She never magged; she never said no word. +An' when I speaks, it seems she never 'eard. + I could 'a' sung a nim, I feels so gay! +If she 'ad only roused I might 'a' smiled. +She jist seems 'urt an' crushed; not even riled. + I turns away, +An' yanks me carkis out into the yard, +Like some whipped pup; an' kicks meself reel 'ard. + +An' then, I sneaks to bed, an' feels dead crook. +Fer golden quids I couldn't face that look + That trouble in the eyes uv my Doreen. +Aw, strike! Wot made me go an' do this thing? +I feel jist like a chewed up bit of string, + An' rotten mean! +Fer 'arf an hour I lies there feelin' cheap; +An' then I s'pose, I muster fell asleep.... + +"'Ere, Kid, drink this"...I wakes, an' lifts me 'ead, +An' sees 'er standin' there beside the bed; + A basin in 'er 'ands; an' in 'er eyes +(Eyes that wiv unshed tears is shinin' wet)-- +The sorter look I never shall ferget, + Until I dies. +"'Ere, Kid, drink this," she sez, an' smiles at me. +I looks--an' spare me days! It WAS BEEF TEA! + +Beef tea! She treats me like a hinvaleed! +Me! that 'as caused 'er lovin' 'eart to bleed. + It 'urts me worse than maggin' fer a week! +'Er! 'oo 'ad right to turn dead sour on me, +Fergives like that, an' feeds me wiv beef tea... + I tries to speak; +An' then--I ain't ashamed o' wot I did-- +I 'ides me face...an' blubbers like a kid. + + + +XII. Uncle Jim + + +"I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez'e, + "Give me a man wiv grit," sez Uncle Jim. +'E bores 'is cute ole eyes right into me, + While I stares 'ard an' gives it back to 'im. +Then orl at once 'e grips me 'and in 'is: +"Some'ow," 'e sez, "I likes yer ugly phiz." + +"You got a look," 'e sez, "like you could stay; + Altho' yeh mauls King's English when yeh yaps, +An' 'angs flash frills on ev'rythink yeh say. + I ain't no grammarist meself, per'aps, +But langwidge is a 'elp, I owns," sez Unk, +"When things is goin' crook." An' 'ere 'e wunk. + +"Yeh'll find it tough," 'e sez, "to knuckle down. + Good farmin' is a gift--like spoutin' slang. +Yeh'll 'ave to cut the luxuries o' town, + An' chuck the manners of this back-street gang; +Fer country life ain't cigarettes and beer." +"I'm game," I sez. Sez Uncle, "Put it 'ere!" + +Like that I took the plunge, an' slung the game. + I've parted wiv them joys I 'eld most dear; +I've sent the leery bloke that bore me name + Clean to the pack wivout one pearly tear; +An' frum the ashes of a ne'er-do-well +A bloomin' farmer's blossomin' like 'ell. + +Farmer! That's me! Wiv this 'ere strong right 'and + I've gripped the plough; and blistered jist a treat. +Doreen an' me 'as gone upon the land. + Yours truly fer the burden an' the 'eat! +Yours truly fer upendin' chunks o' soil! +The 'ealthy, 'ardy, 'appy son o' toil! + +I owns I've 'ankered fer me former joys; + I've 'ad me hours o' broodin' on me woes; +I've missed the comp'ny, an' I've missed the noise, + The football matches an' the picter shows. +I've missed--but, say, it makes me feel fair mean +To whip the cat; an' then see my Doreen. + +To see the colour comin' in 'er cheeks, + To see 'er eyes grow brighter day be day, +The new, glad way she looks an' laughs an' speaks + Is worf ten times the things I've chucked away. +An' there's a secret, whispered in the dark, +'As made me 'eart sing like a flamin' lark. + +Jist let me tell yeh 'ow it come about. + The things that I've been thro' 'ud fill a book. +Right frum me birf Fate played to knock me out; + The 'and that I 'ad dealt to me was crook! +Then comes Doreen, an' patches up me parst; +Now Forchin's come to bunk wiv me at larst. + +First orf, one night poor Mar gits suddin fits, + An' floats wivout the time to wave "good-byes." +Doreen is orl broke up the day she flits; + It tears me 'eart in two the way she cries. +To see 'er grief, it almost made me glad +I never knowed the mar I must 'ave 'ad. + +We done poor Muvver proud when she went out + A slap-up send-orf, trimmed wiv tears an' crape. +An' then fer weeks Doreen she mopes about, + An' life takes on a gloomy sorter shape. +I watch 'er face git pale, 'er eyes grow dim; +Till--like some 'airy angel--comes ole Jim. + +A cherub togged in sunburn an' a beard + An' duds that shouted "'Ayseed!" fer a mile: +Care took the count the minute 'e appeared, +An' sorter shrivelled up before 'is smile, +'E got the 'ammer-lock on my good-will +The minute that 'e sez, "So, this is Bill." + +It's got me beat. Doreen's late Par, some way, + Was second cousin to 'is bruvver's wife. +Somethin' like that. In less than 'arf a day + It seemed 'e'd been my uncle orl me life. +'E takes me 'and: "I dunno 'ow it is," +'E sez, "but, lad, I likes that ugly phiz." + +An' when 'e'd stayed wiv us a little while + The 'ouse begun to look like 'ome once more. +Doreen she brightens up beneath 'is smile, + An' 'ugs 'im till I kids I'm gettin' sore. +Then, late one night, 'e opens up 'is scheme, +An' passes me wot looks like some fond dream. + +'E 'as a little fruit-farm, doin' well; + 'E saved a tidy bit to see 'im thro'; +'E's gettin' old fer toil, an' wants a spell; + An' 'ere's a 'ome jist waitin' fer us two. +"It's 'ers an' yours fer keeps when I am gone," +Sez Uncle Jim. "Lad, will yeh take it on?" + +So that's the strength of it. An' 'ere's me now + A flamin' berry farmer, full o' toil; +Playin' joo-jitsoo wiv an' 'orse an' plough, + An' coaxin' fancy tucker frum the soil, +An' ]ongin', while I wrestles with the rake, +Fer days when me poor back fergits to ache. + +Me days an' nights is full of schemes an' plans + To figger profits an' cut out the loss; +An' when the pickin's on, I 'ave me 'an's + To take me orders while I act the boss; +It's sorter sweet to 'ave the right to rouse.... +An' my Doreen's the lady of the 'ouse. + +To see 'er bustlin' 'round about the place, + Full of the simple joy o' doin' things, +That thoughtful, 'appy look upon 'er face, +That 'ope an' peace an' pride o' labour brings, +Is worth the crowd of joys I knoo one time, +An' makes regrettin' 'em seem like a crime. + +An' ev'ry little while ole Uncle Jim + Comes up to stay a bit an' pass a tip. +It gives us 'eart jist fer to look at 'im, + An' feel the friendship in 'is warm 'and-grip. +'Im, wiv the sunburn on 'is kind ole dile; +'Im, wiv the sunbeams in 'is sweet ole smile. + +"I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez 'e, + "But that there ugly mug o' yourn I trust." +An' so I reckon that it's up to me + To make a bloomin' do of it or bust. +I got to take the back-ache wiv the rest, +An' plug along, an' do me little best. + +Luck ain't no steady visitor, I know; + But now an' then it calls--fer look at me! +You wouldn't take me, 'bout a year ago, + Free gratis wiv a shillin' pound o' tea; +Then, in a blessed 'eap, ole Forchin lands +A missus an' a farm fair in me 'ands. + + + +XIII. The Kid + + +My son!...Them words, jist like a blessed song, +Is singin' in me 'eart the 'ole day long; + Over an' over; while I'm scared I'll wake + Out of a dream, to find it all a fake. + +My son! Two little words, that, yesterdee, +Wus jist two simple, senseless words to me; + An' now--no man, not since the world begun, + Made any better pray'r than that....My son! + +My son an' bloomin' 'eir...Ours!...'Ers an' mine! +The finest kid in--Aw, the sun don't shine-- + Ther' ain't no joy fer me beneath the blue + Unless I'm gazin' lovin' at them two. + +A little while ago it was jist "me"-- +A lonely, longin' streak o' misery. +An' then 'twas "'er an' me"--Doreen, my wife! +An' now it's "'im an' us" an'--sich is life. + +But 'struth! 'E is king-pin! The 'ead serang! +I mustn't tramp about, or talk no slang; + I mustn't pinch 'is nose, or make a face, + I mustn't--Strike! 'E seems to own the place! + +Cunnin'? Yeh'd think, to look into 'is eyes, +'E knoo the game clean thro'; 'e seems that wise. + Wiv 'er 'an nurse 'e is the leadin' man, + An' poor ole dad's amongst the "also ran." + +"Goog, goo," 'e sez, and curls 'is cunnin' toes. +Yeh'd be su'prised the 'caps o' things 'e knows. + I'll swear 'e tumbles I'm 'is father, too; + The way 'e squints at me, an' sez "Goog, goo." + +Why! 'smornin' 'ere 'is lordship gits a grip +Fair on me finger-give it quite a nip! + An' when I tugs, 'e won't let go 'is hold! + 'Angs on like that! An' 'im not three weeks old! + +"Goog, goo," 'e sez. I'll swear yeh never did +In all yer natcheril, see sich a kid. + The cunnin' ways 'e's got; the knowin' stare-- + Ther' ain't a youngster like 'im ANYWHERE! + +An', when 'e gits a little pain inside, +'Is dead straight griffin ain't to be denied. + I'm sent to talk sweet nuffin's to the fowls; + While nurse turns 'and-springs ev'ry time 'e 'owls. + +But say, I tell yeh straight...I been thro' 'ell! +The things I thort I wouldn't dare to tell + Lest, in the tellin' I might feel again + One little part of all that fear an' pain. + +It come so sudden that I lorst me block. +First, it was, 'Ell-fer-leather to the doc., + 'Oo took it all so calm 'e made me curse + An' then I sprints like mad to get the nurse. + +By gum; that woman! But she beat me flat! +A man's jist putty in a game like that. + She owned me 'appy 'ome almost before + She fairly got 'er nose inside me door. + +Sweatin' I was! but cold wiv fear inside +An' then, to think a man could be denied + 'Is wife an' 'ome an' told to fade away + By jist one fat ole nurse 'oo's in 'is pay! + +I wus too weak wiv funk to start an' rouse. +'Struth! Ain't a man the boss in 'is own 'ouse? + "You go an' chase yerself!" she tips me straight. + There's nothin' now fer you to do but--wait." + +Wait?...Gawd!...I never knoo wot waitin' meant +In all me life till that day I was sent + To loaf around, while there inside--Aw, strike! + I couldn't tell yeh wot that hour was like! + +Three times I comes to listen at the door; +Three times I drags meself away once more; + 'Arf dead wiv fear; 'arf dead wiv tremblin' joy... + An' then she beckons me, an' sez-"A boy!" + +"A boy!" she sez. "An' bofe is doin' well!" +I drops into a chair, an' jist sez--"'Ell!" + It was a pray'r. I feels bofe crook an' glad.... + An' that's the strength of bein' made a dad. + +I thinks of church, when in that room I goes, +'Oldin' me breaf an' walkin' on me toes. + Fer 'arf a mo' I feared me nerve 'ud fail + To see 'er lying there so still an' pale. + +She looks so frail, at first, I dursn't stir. +An' then, I leans acrost an' kisses 'er; + An' all the room gits sorter blurred an' dim... + She smiles, an' moves 'er 'ead. "Dear lad! Kiss 'im." + +Near smothered in a ton of snowy clothes, +First thing, I sees a bunch o' stubby toes, + Bald 'ead, termater face, an' two big eyes. + "Look, Kid," she smiles at me. "Ain't 'e a size?" + +'E didn't seem no sorter size to me; +But yet, I speak no lie when I agree; + "'E is," I sez, an' smiles back at Doreen, + "The biggest nipper fer 'is age I've seen." + +She turns away; 'er eyes is brimmin' wet. +"Our little son!" she sez. "Our precious pet!" + An' then, I seen a great big drop roll down + An' fall--kersplosh!--fair on 'is nibs's crown. + +An' still she smiles. "A lucky sign," she said. +"Somewhere, in some ole book, one time I read, + 'The child will sure be blest all thro' the years + Who's christened wiv 'is mother's 'appy tears."' + +"Kiss 'im," she sez. I was afraid to take +Too big a mouthful of 'im, fear 'e'd break. + An' when 'e gits a fair look at me phiz + 'E puckers up 'is nose, an' then--Geewhizz! + +'Ow DID 'e 'owl! In'arf a second more +Nurse 'ad me 'ustled clean outside the door. + Scarce knowin' 'ow, I gits out in the yard, + An' leans agen the fence an' thinks reel 'ard. + +A long, long time I looks at my two 'ands. +"They're all I got," I thinks, "they're all that stands + Twixt this 'ard world an' them I calls me own. + An' fer their sakes I'll work 'em to the bone." + +Them vows an' things sounds like a lot o' guff. +Maybe, it's foolish thinkin' all this stuff-- + Maybe, it's childish-like to scheme an' plan; + But--I dunno--it's that way wiv a man. + +I only know that kid belongs to me! +We ain't decided yet wot 'e's to be. + Doreen, she sez 'e's got a poit's eyes; + But I ain't got much use fer them soft guys. + +I think we ort to make 'im something great-- +A bookie, or a champeen'eavy-weight: + Some callin' that'll give 'im room to spread. + A fool could see 'e's got a clever 'ead. + +I know 'e's good an' honest; for 'is eyes +Is jist like 'ers; so big an' lovin'-wise; + They carries peace an' trust where e'er they goes + An', say, the nurse she sez 'e's got my nose! + +Dead ring fer me ole conk, she sez it is. +More like a blob of putty on 'is phiz, + I think. But 'e's a fair 'ard case, all right. + I'll swear I thort 'e wunk at me last night! + +My wife an' fam'ly! Don't it sound all right! +That's wot I whispers to meself at night. + Some day, I s'pose, I'll learn to say it loud + An' careless; kiddin' that I don't feel proud. + +My son!...If there's a Gawd 'Oos leanin' near +To watch our dilly little lives down 'ere, + 'E smiles, I guess, if 'E's a lovin' one + Smiles, friendly-like, to 'ear them words--My son. + + + +XIV. The Mooch o' Life + + +This ev'nin' I was sittin' wiv Doreen, +Peaceful an' 'appy wiv the day's work done, + Watchin', be'ind the orchard's bonzer green, +The flamin' wonder of the settin' sun. + +Another day gone by; another night +Creepin' along to douse Day's golden light; +Another dawnin', when the night is gone, +To live an' love--an' so life mooches on. + +Times I 'ave thought, when things was goin' crook, +When 'Ope turned nark an' Love forgot to smile, +Of somethin' I once seen in some old book +Where an ole sore-'ead arsts, "Is life worf w'ile?" + +But in that stillness, as the day grows dim, +An' I am sittin' there wiv 'er an' 'im +My wife, my son! an' strength in me to strive, +I only know--it's good to be alive! + +Yeh live, yeh love, yeh learn; an' when yeh come + To square the ledger in some thortful hour, +The everlastin' answer to the sum + Must allus be, "Where's sense in gittin' sour?" + +Fer when yeh've come to weigh the good an' bad-- +The gladness wiv the sadness you 'ave 'ad-- + Then 'im 'oo's faith in 'uman goodness fails + Fergits to put 'is liver in the scales. + +Livin' an' lovin'; learnin' day be day; + Pausin' a minute in the barmy strife +To find that 'elpin' others on the way + Is gold coined fer your profit--sich is life. + +I've studied books wiv yearnings to improve, +To 'eave meself out of me lowly groove, + An' 'ere is orl the change I ever got: + "'Ark at yer 'eart, an' you kin learn the lot." + +I gives it in--that wisdom o' the mind-- + I wasn't built to play no lofty part. +Orl such is welkim to the joys they find; + I only know the wisdom o' the 'eart. + +An' ever it 'as taught me, day be day, +The one same lesson in the same ole way: + "Look fer yer profits in the 'earts o' friends, + Fer 'atin' never paid no dividends." + Life's wot yeh make it; an' the bloke 'oo tries +To grab the shinin' stars frum out the skies + Goes crook on life, an' calls the world a cheat, + An' tramples on the daisies at 'is feet. + +But when the moon comes creepin' o'er the hill, + An' when the mopoke calls along the creek, +I takes me cup o' joy an' drinks me fill, + An' arsts meself wot better could I seek. + +An' ev'ry song I 'ear the thrushes sing +That everlastin' message seems to bring; + An' ev'ry wind that whispers in the trees + Gives me the tip there ain't no joys like these: + +Livin' an' lovin'; wand'rin' on yer way; + Reapin' the 'arvest of a kind deed done; +An' watchin', in the sundown of yer day, +Yerself again, grown nobler in yer son. + +Knowin' that ev'ry coin o' kindness spent +Bears interest in yer 'eart at cent per cent; + Measurin' wisdom by the peace it brings + To simple minds that values simple things. + +An' when I take a look along the way + That I 'ave trod, it seems the man knows best, +Who's met wiv slabs of sorrer in 'is day, + When 'e is truly rich an' truly blest. + +An' I am rich, becos me eyes 'ave seen +The lovelight in the eyes of my Doreen; + An' l am blest, becos me feet 'ave trod + A land 'oo's fields reflect the smile o' God. + +Livin' an' lovin'; learnin' to fergive + The deeds an' words of some un'appy bloke +Who's missed the bus--so 'ave I come to live, + An' take the 'ole mad world as 'arf a joke. + +Sittin' at ev'nin' in this sunset-land, +Wiv 'Er in all the World to 'old me 'and, +A son, to bear me name when I am gone.... +Livin' an' lovin'--so life mooches on. + + + + + + +The Glossary + + +A.I.F.--Australian Imperial Force. +Alley, to toss in the--To give up the ghost. +Also ran, the--On the turf, horses that fail to secure a leading place; + hence, obscure persons, nonentities. +'Ammer-lock (Hammer-lock)--A favourite and effective hold in wrestling. +Ar--An exclamation expressing joy, sorrow, surprise, etc., according + to the manner of utterance. +'Ard Case (Hard Case)--A shrewd or humorous person. +'Ayseed (Hayseed)--A rustic. + +Back Chat--Impudent repartee. +Back and Fill--To vacillate; to shuffle. +Back the Barrer--To intervene without invitation. +Barmy (Balmy)--Foolish; silly. +Beak--A magistrate. (Possibly from Anglo-Saxon, Beag--a magistrate.) +Beano--A feast. +Beans--Coins; money. +Beat--Puzzled; defeated. +Beat, off the---Out of the usual routine. +Beef (to beef it out)--To declaim vociferously. +Bellers (Bellows)--The lungs. +Biff--To smite. +Bird, to give the--To treat with derision. +Blighter--A worthless fellow. +Bli'me--An oath with the fangs drawn. +Blither--To talk at random, foolishly. +Blob--A shapeless mass. +Block--The head. + To lose or do in the block--To become flustered; excited; angry; + to lose confidence. + To keep the block--To remain calm; dispassionate. +Block, the--A fashionable city walk. +Bloke--A male adult of the genus homo. +Blubber, blub--To weep. +Bluff--Cunning practice; make believe. v. To deceive; to mislead. +Bob--A shilling. +Bokays--Compliments, flattery. +Boko--The nose. +Bong-tong--Patrician (Fr. Bon ton). +Bonzer, boshter, bosker--Adjectives expressing the superlative of + excellence. +Boodle--Money; wealth. +Book--A bookie, q.v. +Bookie--A book-maker (turf); one who makes a betting book on sporting + events. +Boot, to put in the--To kick a prostrate foe. +Boss--Master, employer. +Break (to break away, to do a break)--To depart in haste. +Breast up to--To accost. +Brisket--The chest. +Brown--A copper coin. +Brums--Tawdry finery (From Brummagem--Birmingham). +Buckley's (Chance)--A forlorn hope. +Buck-up--Cheer up. +Bump--To meet; to accost aggressively. +Bun, to take the--To take the prize (used ironically). +Bundle, to drop the--To surrender; to give. up hope. +Bunk--To sleep in a "bunk" or rough bed. + To do a bunk--To depart. Bunnies, to hawk the--To peddle rabbits. +Bus, to miss the--To neglect opportunities. + +Caboose--A small dwelling. +Carlton--A Melbourne Football Team. +Cat, to whip the--To cry over spilt milk; i.e. to whip the cat that + has spilt the milk. +C.B.--Confined to barracks. +Cert--A certainty; a foregone conclusion. +Champeen--Champion. +Chase yourself--Depart; avaunt; "fade away," q.v. +Chat--To address tentatively; to "word " q.v. +Cheque, to pass in one's--To depart this life. +Chest, to get it off one's--To deliver a speech; express one's feelings. +Chew, to chew it over; to chew the rag--To sulk; to nurse a grievance. +Chiack--Vulgar banter; coarse invective. +Chin--To talk; to wag the chin. +Chip--To "chat," q.v. +Chip in--To intervene. +Chiv--The face. +Chow--A native of far Cathay. +Chuck up--To relinquish. +Chuck off--To chaff; to employ sarcasm. +Chump--A foolish fellow. +Chunk--A lump; a mass. +Clean--Completely; utterly. +Click--A clique; a "push," q.v. +Cliner--A young unmarried female. +Clobber--Raiment; vesture. +Cobber--A boon companion. +Collect--To receive one's deserts. +Colour-line--In pugilism, the line drawn by white boxers excluding + coloured fighters--for divers reasons. +Conk--The nose. +Coot--A person of no account (used contemptuously). +Cop--To seize; to secure; also s. An avocation, a "job." +Cop (or Copper)--A police constable. +Copper-top--Red head. +Copper show--A copper mine. +Count, to take the--In pugilism, to remain prostrate for ten + counted seconds, and thus lose the fight. +Cove--A "chap" or "bloke," q.v. (Gipsy). +Cow--A thoroughly unworthy, not to say despicable, person, place, + thing, or circumstance. + A fair cow--An utterly obnoxious and otherwise unexpressible person, + place, thing, or circumstance. +Crack--To smite. s. A blow. +Crack a boo--To divulge a secret; to betray emotion. +Crack hardy--To suppress emotion; to endure patiently; to keep a secret. +Cray--A crayfish. +Crib--A dwelling. +Croak--To die. +Crook--A dishonest or evil person. +Crook--Unwell; dishonest; spurious; fraudulent. Superlative, Dead Crook. +Crool (cruel) the pitch--To frustrate; to interfere with one's + schemes or welfare. +Crust--Sustenance; a livelihood: +Cut it out--Omit it; discontinue it. + +Dago--A native of Southern Europe. +Dash, to do-one's--To reach one's Waterloo. +Date--An appointment. +Dawg (dog)--A contemptible person; ostentation. + To put on dawg--To behave in an arrogant manner. +Dead--In a superlative degree; very. +Deal--To deal it out; to administer punishment, abuse, etc. +Deener--A shilling (Fr. Denier. Denarius, a Roman silver coin). +Derry--An aversion; a feud; a dislike. +Dickin--A term signifying disgust or disbelief. +Dile (dial)--The face. +Dilly--Foolish; half-witted. +Ding Dong--Strenuous. +Dinkum--Honest; true. "The Dinkum Oil."--The truth. +Dirt--Opprobrium, a mean speech or action. +Dirty left--A formidable left fist. +Divvies--Dividends; profits. +Dizzy limit--The utmost; the superlative degree. +Do in--To defeat; to kill; to spend. +Done me luck--Lost my good fortune. +Dope--A drug; adulterated liquor. v. To administer drugs. +Dot in the eye, to--To strike in the eye. +Douse--To extinguish (Anglo-Saxon). +Drive a quill--To write with a pen; to work in an office. +Duck, to do a--See "break." +Duds--Personal apparel (Scotch). +Dunno--Do not know. +Dutch--German; any native of Central Europe. + +'Eads (Heads)--The authorities; inner council. +'Eadin'--"Heading browns"; tossing pennies. +'Ead over Turkey--Head over heels. +'Ead Serang--The chief; the leader. +'Eavyweight--A boxer of the heaviest class. +'Ell--fer-leather--In extreme haste. +End up, to get--To rise to one's feet. + +Fade away, to--To retire; to withdraw. +Fag--A cigarette. +Fair--Extreme; positive. +Fair thing--A wise proceeding; an obvious duty. +Fake--A swindle; a hoax. +Finger--An eccentric or amusing person. +Flam--Nonsense; make--believe. +Flash--Ostentatious; showy but counterfeit. +Float, to--To give up the ghost. +Fluff, a bit of--A young female person. +Foot (me foot)--A term expressing ridicule. +Footer--Football. +Frame--The body. +Frill--Affectation. +Funk, to--To fear; to lose courage. +Furphy--An idle rumour; a canard. + +Galoot--A simpleton. +Game--Occupation; scheme; design. +Gawsave--The National Anthem. +Gazob--A fool; a blunderer. +Geewhizz--Exclamation expressing surprise. +Get, to do a--To retreat hastily. +Gilt--Money; wealth. +Give, to--In one sense, to care. +Gizzard--The heart. +Glassey--The glassy eye; a glance of cold disdain. +The Glassey Alley--The favourite; the most admired. +Glim--A light. +Going (while the going is good)--While the path is clear. +Gone (fair gone)--Overcome, as with emotion. +Goo-goo eyes--Loving glances. +Gorspil-cove--A minister of the Gospel. +Graft--Work. +Grafter--One who toils hard or willingly. +Griffin, the straight--The truth, secret information. +Grip--Occupation; employment. +Groggy--Unsteady; dazed. +Grouch--To mope; to grumble. +Grub--Food. +Guff--Nonsense. +Guy--A foolish fellow. +Guy, to do a--To retire. +Guyver--Make-believe. + +Hankies--A fondling of hands between lovers. +Hang out--To reside; to last. +Hang-over--The aftermath of the night before. +Hankies--Handkerchiefs. +High-falutin'--High sounding; boastful. +Hitch, to--To wed. +Hitched--Entangled in the bonds of holy matrimony. +Hit things up--To behave strenuously; riotously. +Hot--Excessive, extreme. +Hump, the--A fit of depression. +Hump, to--To carry as a swag or other burden. + +Imshee--Begone; retreat; to take yourself off. [Arabic] +Intro--Introduction; "knock--down," q.v. +It (to be It)--To assume a position of supreme importance. + +Jab--To strike smartly. +Jane--A woman. +Jiff--A very brief period. +Job, to--To smite. +Joes--Melancholy thoughts. +John--A policeman. +Joint, to jump the--To assume command; to occupy the "joint," + i.e., establishment, situation, place of business. +Jolt, to pass a--To deliver a short, sharp blow. +Jor--The jaw. +Jorb (Job)--Avocation; employment. +Josser--A simple fellow. +Jug--A prison. + +Keekin'--Peeping. +Keeps, for--For ever; permanently. +Kersplosh--Splash. +Kid--A child. +Kid, to--To deceive; to persuade by flattery. +Kiddies--Children. +Kid Stakes--Pretence. +King Pin--The leader; the person of chief importance. +Kip--A small chip used for tossing pennies in the occult game + of two--up. +Kipsie--A house; the home. +Knob--The head; one in authority. +Knock-down--A ceremony insisted upon by ladies who decline + to be "picked up"; a formal introduction. +Knock-out drops--Drugged or impure liquor. +Knock-out punch--A knock--down blow. +Knot--A fop; a well--dressed idler. + +Lark--A practical joke; a sportive jest. +Lash--Violence. +Ledding--Leaden. +Leery--Vulgar; low. +Leeuwin--Cape Leeuwin on the south-west coast of Australia. +Lid--The hat. + To dip the lid--To raise the hat. +Limit--The end; the full length. +Line up--To approach; to accost. +Lingo--Language. +Lip--Impertinence. + To give it lip--To talk vociferously. +Little Bourke--Little Bourke Street, Melbourne, Australia. +Little Lon.--Little Lonsdale Street, Melbourne, Australia. +Lob, to--To arrive. +'Loo--Woolloomooloo, a part of Sydney. +Lumme--Love me. +Lurk--A plan of action; a regular occupation. + +Mafeesh--Finish; I am finished. [Arabic "there is no.."] +Mag--To scold or talk noisily. +Mallee--A species of Eucalypt; the country where the Mallee grows. +Mash--To woo; to pay court. s. A lover. +Maul--To lay hands upon, either violently or with affection. +Meet, a--An assignation. +Mill--A bout of fisticuffs. +Mix--To mix it; to fight strenuously. +Mizzle--To disappear; to depart suddenly. +Mo--An abbreviation of "moment." +Moll--A woman of loose character. +Moniker--A name; a title; a signature. +Mooch--To saunter about aimlessly. +Moon--To loiter. +Mud, my name is--i.e., I am utterly discredited. +Mug--A fool; also the mouth. +Mug, to--To kiss. +Mullock, to poke--To deride; to tease. +Mushy--Sentimental. + +Nark--s. A spoil--sport; a churlish fellow. +Nark, to--To annoy; to foil. +Narked--Angered; foiled. +Natchril--Natural +Neck, to get it in the--To receive severe punishment; + i.e., "Where the chicken got the axe." +Nerve--Confidence; impudence. +Nick--Physical condition; good health. +Nipper--A small boy. +Nose around, to--To seek out inquisitively. +Nothing (ironically)--Literally "something considerable." + +Odds, above the--Beyond the average; outside the pale. +Oopizootics--An undiagnosed complaint. +Orfis (office)--A warning; a word of advice; a hint. +Oricle (oracle), to work the--To secure desired results. +Orl (all in)--Without limit or restriction. +'Ot socks--Gaily--coloured hose. +Out, to--To render unconscious with a blow. +Out, all--Quite exhausted; fully extended. + +Pack, to send to the--To relegate to obscurity. +Pal--A friend; a mate (Gipsy). +Pard--A partner; a mate. +Pass (pass 'im one)--To deliver a blow. +Pat [Malone] on one's--Alone; single-handed. +Peach--A desirable young woman; "fresh as a peach." +Peb (pebble)--A flash fellow; a "larrikin." +Phiz--The face. +Pick at--To chaff; to annoy +Pick--up, to--To dispense with the ceremony of a "knock--down" or + introduction. +Pile it on--To rant; to exaggerate. +Pilot Cove--A clergyman. +Pinch--To steal; to place under arrest. +Pip--A fit of depression. +Pitch a tale--To trump up an excuse; to weave a romance. +Plant--To bury. +Plug--To smite with the fist. +Plug along, to--To proceed doggedly. +Plunk--An exclamation expressing the impact of a blow. +Point, to--To seize unfair advantage; to scheme. +Podgy--Fat; plump. +Point--The region of the jaw; much sought after by pugilists. +Pot, the old--The male parent (from "Rhyming Slang,") the + "old pot and pan"--the "old man." +Pot, a--A considerable amount; as a "pot of money." +Pole, up the--Distraught through anger, fear, etc.; also, + disappeared, vanished. +Prad--A horse. +Pug--A pugilist. +Pull, to take a--To desist; to discontinue. +Punch a cow--To conduct a team of oxen. +Punter--The natural prey of a "bookie," q.v. +Push--A company of rowdy fellows gathered together for ungentle + purposes. + +Queer the pitch--To frustrate; to fool. +Quid--A sovereign, or pound sterling. +Quod--Prison. + +Rabbit, to run the--To convey liquor from a public-house. +Rag, to chew the--To grieve; to brood. +Rag, to sky the--To throw a towel into the air in token of + surrender (pugilism). +Rain, to keep out of the--To avoid danger; to act with caution. +Rat--A street urchin; a wharf loafer. +Rattled--Excited; confused. +Red lot--Extreme; out--and--out. +Registry--The office of a Registrar. +Ribuck----Correct, genuine; an interjection signifying assent. +Rile--To annoy. Riled--Roused to anger. +Ring, the--The arena of a prize-fight. +Ring, the dead--A remarkable likeness. +Rise, a--An accession of fortune; an improvement. +Rocks--A locality in Sydney. +Rorty--Boisterous; rowdy. +Roust, or Rouse--To upbraid with many words. +'Roy--Fitzroy, a suburb of Melbourne; its football team. +Run against--To meet more or less unexpectedly. + +Saints--A football team of St Kilda, Victoria. +Sandy blight--Ophthalmia. +Savvy--Common-sense; shrewdness. +School--A club; a clique of gamblers, or others. +Scran--Food. +Scrap--Fight. +Set, to--To attack; to regard with disfavour. +Set, to have--To have marked down for punishment or revenge. +Shick, shickered--Intoxicated. +Shicker--Intoxicating liquor. +Shinty--A game resembling hockey. +Shook--Stolen; disturbed. +Shook on--Infatuated. +Shyin' or Shine--Excellent; desirable. +Sight--To tolerate; to permit; also to see; observe. +Sir Garneo--In perfect order; satisfactory. +Skirt or bit of skirt--A female. +Skite--To boast. +Skiter--A boaster. +Sky the wipe--See "rag." +Slab--A portion; a tall, awkward fellow. +Slanter--Spurious; unfair. +Slap-up--Admirable; excellent. +Slats--The ribs. +Slaver--One engaged in the "white slave traffic." +Slick--Smart; deft; quick. +Slope, to--To elope; to leave in haste. +Sloppy--Lachrymose; maudlin. +Slushy--A toiler in a scullery. +Smooge--To flatter or fawn; to bill and coo. +Smooger--A sycophant; a courtier. +Snag--A hindrance; formidable opponent. +Snake-'eaded--Annoyed, vindictive. +Snake juice--Strong drink. +Snare--To acquire; to seize; to win. +Snide--Inferior; of no account. +Snob--A bootmaker. +Snout--To bear a grudge. +Snouted--Treated with disfavour. +Snuff or snuff it--To expire. +Sock it into--To administer physical punishment. +Solid--Severe; severely. +So-long--A form of farewell. +Sool--To attack; to urge on. +Soot, leadin'--A chief attribute. +Sore, to get--To become aggrieved. +Sore-head--A curmudgeon. +Sour, to turn, or get--To become pessimistic or discontented. +Spank--To chastise maternal-wise. +Spar--A gentle bout of fisticuffs. +Spare me days--A pious ejaculation. +Specs--Spectacles. +Splash--To expend. +Splice--To join in holy matrimony. +Spout--To preach or speak at length. +Sprag--To accost truculently. +Spruik--To deliver a speech, as a showman. +Square--Upright, honest. +Square an' all--Of a truth; verily. +Squiz--A brief glance. +Stand-orf--Retiring; reticent. +Stajum--Stadium, where prize-fights are conducted. S +tiffened--Bought over. +Stiff-un--A corpse. +Stoke--To nourish; to eat. +Stop a pot--To quaff ale. +Stoush--To punch with the fist. s. Violence. +Straight, on the--In fair and honest fashion. +Strangle-hold--An ungentle embrace in wrestling. +Strength of it--The truth of it; the value of it. +Stretch, to do a--To serve a term of imprisonment. +Strike--The innocuous remnant of a hardy curse. +Strike--To discover; to meet. +Strong, going--Proceeding with vigour. +'Struth--An emaciated oath. +Stuff--Money. +Stunt--A performance; a tale. +Swad, Swaddy--A private soldier. +Swank--Affectation; ostentation. +Swap--To exchange. +Swell--An exalted person. +Swig--A draught of water or other liquid. + +Tabbie--A female. +Take 'em on--Engage them in battle. +Take it out--To undergo imprisonment in lieu of a fine. +Tart--A young woman (contraction of sweetheart). +Tenner--A ten-pound note. +Time, to do--To serve a term in prison. +Time, to have no time for--To regard with impatient disfavour. +Tip--To forecast; to give; to warn. +Tip--A warning; a prognostication; a hint. +Tipple--Strong drink; to indulge in strong drink. +Toff--An exalted persogn. +Togs--Clothes. +Togged--Garbed. +Tom--A girl. +Tony--Stylish. +Took--Arrested; apprehended. +Top, off one's--Out of one's mind. +Top off, to--To knock down; to assault. +Toss in the towel--See "rag." +Touch--Manner; mode; fashion. +Tough--Unfortunate; hardy; also a "tug," q.v. +Tough luck--Misfortune. +Track with--To woo; to "go walking with." +Treat, a--Excessively; abundantly. +Tucked away--Interred. +Tug--An uncouth fellow; a hardy rogue. +Tumble to, or to take a tumble--To comprehend suddenly. +Turkey, head over--Head over heels. +Turn down--To reject; dismiss. +Turn, out of one's--Impertinently; uninvited. +Twig--To observe; to espy. +Two-up School--A gambling den. + +Umpty--An indefinite numeral. +Upper--cut--In pugilism, an upward blow. +Uppish--Proud. +Up to us--Our turn; our duty. + +Vag, on the--Under the provisions of the Vagrancy Act. + +Wallop--To beat; chastise. +Waster--A reprobate; an utterly useless and unworthy person. +Waterworks, to turn on the--To shed tears. +Welt--A blow. +Wet, to get--To become incensed; ill--tempered. +Whips--Abundance. +White (white man)--A true, sterling fellow. +White-headed boy--A favourite; a pet. +Willin'--Strenuous; hearty. +Win, a--Success. +Wise, to get--To comprehend; to unmask deceit. +Wolf--To eat. +Word--To accost with fair speech. +Wot price--Behold; how now! + +Yakker--Hard toil. +Yap--To talk volubly. +Yowling--Wailing; caterwauling. + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke +by C.J. 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