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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
But mind ye! that was the road the gel
Had to go. So, very well!
Where was Tommy now would ye be thinkin'
The very next Sunday? and sneakin' and slinkin'
Behind the very same hedge? Dear me!
What else? and hid that a crow couldn' see
Where he was hidin'; and as still as a block,
Still,—but felt the whiff of her frock,
And shivered, and waited till she'd pass,
And kissed the print of her foot in the grass,
And kissed, and kissed: so, of coorse, you know,
He loved her again—poor Tommy though!
Again he loved her! it hadn' died
In his heart—this love; just stupefied
Like a fire that's slacked, like a spark in the tinder;
Like you'll wake with the light, and jump to the winder—
Jump to the winder—she's comin'! she's comin'!
I'll tell ye what! this love is a rum 'un!
Had to go. So, very well!
Where was Tommy now would ye be thinkin'
The very next Sunday? and sneakin' and slinkin'
Behind the very same hedge? Dear me!
What else? and hid that a crow couldn' see
Where he was hidin'; and as still as a block,
Still,—but felt the whiff of her frock,
And shivered, and waited till she'd pass,
And kissed the print of her foot in the grass,
And kissed, and kissed: so, of coorse, you know,
He loved her again—poor Tommy though!
Again he loved her! it hadn' died
In his heart—this love; just stupefied
Like a fire that's slacked, like a spark in the tinder;
Like you'll wake with the light, and jump to the winder—
Jump to the winder—she's comin'! she's comin'!
I'll tell ye what! this love is a rum 'un!
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |