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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
290
I was down at Renshent; and the whole of the lot
Sittin' up all night there in the kitchen,
Afraid of the storm, that was nearly hitchin'
The roof off the house—Nor'-West by Nor'—
Dead in, you know, upon the shore—
Great guns—and impossible for me
To get home, so stayed for company.
And Cain was there, with his face in a frown
Like thunder; but the misthress was lyin' down,
They said, in the parlour; very sick—
So these boys was up to every trick,
Pretendin' they had to hould the gels
For the freckened they were —dear me! what else!
And snugglin' up, and whisperin'—
And very lovin' and comfortin'—
And Cain someway didn' seem to be heedin',
And he had a book, but he wasn' readin'—
He seen them well enough, I'll be bail—
But he looked to be thinkin' there a dale.
But Tommy wasn' with them at all;
And so I says to Harry Phaul —
One of these chaps—“Where's Tommy to-night?”
And the wink went round upon me straight,
And nudgin' and lookin', till one of them said—
“Haven' ye heard—?” “Silence! ye jade!”
Says Cain, and looks at the gel like murder—
“This talk,” he says, “must go no furder—
It isn' accordin' to your station,
And it isn' to the use of edification.”
So the gel gave a frump, like dear me?
“Look here!” he says, “you're talkin' too free—
Yes—and very undesi'ble—
And I'll read you four chapters in the Bible
In a minute,” he says, “like a shot,” he says—
“Four chapters, every vess—”
Four chapters, if a finger stirred o' them!
Four chapters every word o' them!
291
“A chatt'rin', aggravatin' slut!
But this young Baynes,” he says, “may ax
What has happened—I'll state the fax!
I'll state them,” he says, “ye jackdaw!
And every one of ye hould your jaw!
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |