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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
So one Sunday though ould Cain was as clever
Fiddlin' there with Nelly as ever,
And wrappin' the shawl—and it wasn' rainy—
But just like the gel was made of chayney.
And Nelly as rosy as an apple
With the blushes, and linkin' down the chapel,
As happy, bless ye! and content—
Innocent! just innocent!
For the capers this Cain was carryin' on
She didn' hardly understan';
Only she thought it was maybe a way
With pious pessins—but as good as a play;
And the praecher lookin' rather glum—
But the hour had come, the hour had come!
Come, I tell ye! make or break—
For on the road he begun to spake
About the young Captain, and worked it round,
Till she must understand; and she gave a bound,
And off like a deer, and the night was black,
And this rascal couldn' follow the track,
And lost her there; but Nelly went
Across everythin', everythin', straight for Renshent.
Ah, think! what would the poor craythur be?
Just mad with fear and misery!
Fiddlin' there with Nelly as ever,
And wrappin' the shawl—and it wasn' rainy—
But just like the gel was made of chayney.
And Nelly as rosy as an apple
With the blushes, and linkin' down the chapel,
As happy, bless ye! and content—
Innocent! just innocent!
For the capers this Cain was carryin' on
She didn' hardly understan';
Only she thought it was maybe a way
With pious pessins—but as good as a play;
And the praecher lookin' rather glum—
But the hour had come, the hour had come!
Come, I tell ye! make or break—
For on the road he begun to spake
About the young Captain, and worked it round,
Till she must understand; and she gave a bound,
And off like a deer, and the night was black,
And this rascal couldn' follow the track,
And lost her there; but Nelly went
Across everythin', everythin', straight for Renshent.
Ah, think! what would the poor craythur be?
Just mad with fear and misery!
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |