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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
So Tommy was gone; but Nelly got better,
And then the lot of them was at her
To stay for a servant with them there,
And so she did: and the best of a year
No news of Tommy; but the people was sayin'
They were hearin' a sort of music playin'
In the air sometimes—like a sort of disthress—
Like a fiddle cryin' about the place—
Like a cry, they said, and a surt of a moan to it—
(I've axed Tommy himself, but he wouldn' own to it).
So the people said it wasn' right
At all: but Cain took a gun one night,
And fired it out at the front door,
And then they never heard it no more.
And then the lot of them was at her
To stay for a servant with them there,
And so she did: and the best of a year
No news of Tommy; but the people was sayin'
They were hearin' a sort of music playin'
In the air sometimes—like a sort of disthress—
Like a fiddle cryin' about the place—
Like a cry, they said, and a surt of a moan to it—
(I've axed Tommy himself, but he wouldn' own to it).
So the people said it wasn' right
At all: but Cain took a gun one night,
298
And then they never heard it no more.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |