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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
‘She was right,” you're sayin’? Poor Tommy though!
“Right enough?” Well, I don't know—
If a chap won't take a kiss when it's gave him,
You suppose the only way is to lave him?
Yes, I suppose so. Aw, Nelly was furious!
But still, for all, it's very curious,
The little foot was slack enough
Before she got home, and all the huff
Washed away in bitter tears—
And as white as a sheet: and so it appears
The mother noticed. And, What was the matter?
And, “Dear me!” and clitter-clatter.
“Right enough?” Well, I don't know—
If a chap won't take a kiss when it's gave him,
You suppose the only way is to lave him?
Yes, I suppose so. Aw, Nelly was furious!
But still, for all, it's very curious,
The little foot was slack enough
Before she got home, and all the huff
Washed away in bitter tears—
And as white as a sheet: and so it appears
The mother noticed. And, What was the matter?
And, “Dear me!” and clitter-clatter.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |