Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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QUEEN “BABY.” |
 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
QUEEN “BABY.”
My dear duchess, it may be
You have not seen “Baby,”
The beauty who reigns in the slums;
Though her hair is her crown,
And all tattered her gown,
And she still goes on sucking her thumbs.
She is tidy and trim for a Whitechapel child,
And her tangles at least are her own;
She has stains on her hands, but are you not defil'd,
If the rottenness yet is not known?
From the garbage of gutter life bursts no white blossom,
Though her blemish lies most on the face;
What is soil on the body to soil in the bosom,
Covered over with jewels and lace?
You have not seen “Baby,”
The beauty who reigns in the slums;
Though her hair is her crown,
And all tattered her gown,
And she still goes on sucking her thumbs.
She is tidy and trim for a Whitechapel child,
And her tangles at least are her own;
She has stains on her hands, but are you not defil'd,
If the rottenness yet is not known?
521
Though her blemish lies most on the face;
What is soil on the body to soil in the bosom,
Covered over with jewels and lace?
Keep your feathers, fine gaby,
But I prefer “Baby,”
With all her rough manners and rags;
She has temper no doubt,
And it often flames out,
But in sympathy she never lags.
O she swears like a trooper, I cannot deny,
And her speech is not drawing-room slang;
But the danger you scuttle from she would defy
And say straight to the devil, go hang.
But yet somehow the oaths on those ripe lips of cherry
Have a kind of propriety tone,
As the thorns that protect the wild red winter berry
As it shivers, cold, naked, alone.
But I prefer “Baby,”
With all her rough manners and rags;
She has temper no doubt,
And it often flames out,
But in sympathy she never lags.
O she swears like a trooper, I cannot deny,
And her speech is not drawing-room slang;
But the danger you scuttle from she would defy
And say straight to the devil, go hang.
But yet somehow the oaths on those ripe lips of cherry
Have a kind of propriety tone,
As the thorns that protect the wild red winter berry
As it shivers, cold, naked, alone.
And if rod to belay be
In pickle for “Baby,”
She stands undefended, unarmed,
Save by shrewd native wit
And a tongue that can hit,
With a heart that is never alarmed.
For the gold is not all on that tumbled fair thatch
Streaming over the earnest gray eyes,
Hardly hiding the scar of the eloquent scratch,
And deep down in her nature it lies.
Do not ask me too closely the source of her living,
Remember her home is the slums,
She is true to her light, she is frank and forgiving
In that air that befogs and benumbs.
In pickle for “Baby,”
She stands undefended, unarmed,
Save by shrewd native wit
And a tongue that can hit,
With a heart that is never alarmed.
For the gold is not all on that tumbled fair thatch
Streaming over the earnest gray eyes,
Hardly hiding the scar of the eloquent scratch,
And deep down in her nature it lies.
Do not ask me too closely the source of her living,
Remember her home is the slums,
She is true to her light, she is frank and forgiving
In that air that befogs and benumbs.
Truths as simple as A B
Are unknown to “Baby,”
Yet she wants no crutches or nurse,
And secure as a Guelf
Governs all but herself,
Without laws or police or a purse.
Ready tact, the right word, an invincible will,
And a knowledge of neighbours' weak points,
Give a power and throne that no monarch could fill
Whom a grand coronation anoints.
For her spirit admits of no rival, and truckles
To no force—from no tyranny swerves,
While at times and indeed she can use her brown knuckles
In a fashion to scare timid nerves.
Are unknown to “Baby,”
Yet she wants no crutches or nurse,
And secure as a Guelf
Governs all but herself,
Without laws or police or a purse.
522
And a knowledge of neighbours' weak points,
Give a power and throne that no monarch could fill
Whom a grand coronation anoints.
For her spirit admits of no rival, and truckles
To no force—from no tyranny swerves,
While at times and indeed she can use her brown knuckles
In a fashion to scare timid nerves.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |