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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
But, after that, the life they led with him,
I'm tould, was shockin'—must have it in bed with him,
This viol, and reachin' to his nose,
And the stick of it tanglin' in the clothes,
And strugglin', and gettin' out on the floor,
And at it still—aw, well to be sure!
At it, I tell ye, from night to mornin';
And the chaps that was sleepin' with him gave them warnin';
And Tommy had to go over the stable;
But, if he'd been put on the top of the tower of Babel,
Tommy wouldn' have been offended,
Just the thing for him, got on most splendid—
But terrible partikkilar;
No! he said, he wouldn' dar'
He couldn'; they really must excuse him;
No! nothin' in the world'd induce him,
He said, to go in the chapel yet:
And Cain couldn' understand him a bit;
And very impatient; and no wonder either—
They were runnin' away with him altogether,
Them gifts, and remindin' him of Paul,
That didn' think much of them at all,
But rather bothered him, yes indeed!
Aw, there's no mistake, a troublesome breed;
“And, for all the carryin' on there's about them
The Church could do very well without them.”
I'm tould, was shockin'—must have it in bed with him,
This viol, and reachin' to his nose,
And the stick of it tanglin' in the clothes,
And strugglin', and gettin' out on the floor,
And at it still—aw, well to be sure!
At it, I tell ye, from night to mornin';
And the chaps that was sleepin' with him gave them warnin';
And Tommy had to go over the stable;
But, if he'd been put on the top of the tower of Babel,
Tommy wouldn' have been offended,
Just the thing for him, got on most splendid—
But terrible partikkilar;
No! he said, he wouldn' dar'
He couldn'; they really must excuse him;
No! nothin' in the world'd induce him,
He said, to go in the chapel yet:
And Cain couldn' understand him a bit;
And very impatient; and no wonder either—
They were runnin' away with him altogether,
Them gifts, and remindin' him of Paul,
That didn' think much of them at all,
But rather bothered him, yes indeed!
Aw, there's no mistake, a troublesome breed;
“And, for all the carryin' on there's about them
The Church could do very well without them.”
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |