The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown

Just two years after, being home again,
I went to see them at the Sherragh Vane.
But Saul was away, when I got there fuss,
Bein' second mate of the Arquebus
That vi'ge, and me aboord of the Hound,
Captain Forster, China bound—
Long vi'ges them days, despard, aye!
But home at last, and up for a try
At the harvest theer, and a moonlight night,
And met ould Nicky, that was all right,
And as hearty as ever. And—“See yandher barley!”
And see this, and see that; and “Agate of it early
To-morrow,” he says. And up through the goss,
And up the gill—the delighted he was
And the hot, and his head goin' bibbin' and bobbin',
And a chirpin' there like an ould cock-robin.

“And how is yandher card?”
Says I; “is he here with you still?” “Hould hard!
Aisy! aisy!” says Nicky Tear—
And, lo and behould! the two of them theer
Quite close, and walkin' very slow
On the top of the rocks; and the moon like snow
Upon her head and upon her neck,
And no bonnet nor nothin', and never a speck
Of cloud nowhere, and her face turned full
To the moon that was risin' over Barrule—
And the look—by gum! love's brew's a-brew'n'
When a gel looks like that in the harvest moon—
Special coortin'—and coortin' it was—

467

That's what I said to Nicholas.
“Them two is coortin'!” I said. “They've got
My leave,” says he. “Why not? why not?
Why not?” says Nicky. And then he tould
All about it—aw, a hearty ould sowl!
And this chap he was callin' him Ned—d'ye see?
Ned—and shuited him to a tee,—
Ned—nothin' else—he wouldn' tell them
What else was he callin'; but, all the same,
A fuss-rate sarvant, 'deed for sure!
And the way he larned, and clever thallure!
And a grand head arrim; and the strong he'd got—
Aw, bless ye! shuited him to a dot—
And ploughin' and sowin', and buyin' and sellin',
And cypherin' theer, there wasn' no tellin'
The useful; and handy with cattle and sheep,
And all about breedin',
And “shockin' for readin';
And costin' me nothin' but his keep,”
Says Nick; and the clanest chap and the nicest,
And civil; and knowin' all about prices;
“And studdy uncommon, uncommon!” says Nick.

“And how about the dialec'?”
Says I. “Aw, bless your mammy then!
He's talkin' just like other men
Now,” says Nick; “but still they can slant
Into that, you know, whenever they want—
Them two—aw, yes! remindin' me—
My gough!” says Nicky, “look here! the spree!”
He says, and he laughed; and then he stopped
Quite sudden, you know, lek freckened, and dropped
His merry ould vice. And says he, “Aw, dear!
The happy if it wasn' for Mrs. Tear—
The happy!” “And is she agin it?” I said.
“Agin it? Agin it? Thomas, good lad.”
And then he tould me all the jeel
And the work there'd been—Like steel! like steel!

468

He said, she was—the sharp and the hard,
And the keen and the could —but he didn' regard;
And he'd have his way; and he shook the fiss,
And he stamped the foot. “Never mind,” he says.
And then he saw these two was turned
To meet us; and then this Nicky yearned
To the happiness; and all his trouble
Was gone like a whiff of smook, like a bubble,
That busts in the air, and—“See, see, see!
Machree! machree!
See the beautiful! the grand!
Hand in hand—
Aw, ye darlin's!” he says, “it's splandid—
Coort on! coort on!”
And he thrimbled, the man did,—
Thrimbled—and then he 'splains
Who had he with him; and “Thomas Baynes,”
He says, “you're knowin' Thomas, it's lek;
He's not forgot at you, eh?”
And “Hip-hip-hip! hooraa!”

Did she start? did she blush? did she turn away?
Not her!
Like a fir,
Straight,
Strong—
Was she right,
Was she wrong,
Not a notion;
But a motion
Of her head—
Aw, a queen
She might ha' been—
And her hand held out as free.
And “Welcome home!”
And, turnin' to 'm,
“This is Ned,”
Says she.

469

And Nicky was right; aw, a handsome falla!
He'd got rid of the black and the green and the yalla;
And he stood like a man—
“Ned what?” I began.
But the finger to her lip,
And the father took a grip
On my arm middlin' tight,
And says I, “All right!”
And on and passed them; and says Nicky to me,
“There's nobody knowin' the name,” says he,
“Except herself, that's tould, no doubt;
But tell a livin' sowl? gerr out!
Tell me! No, no! she's not such a fool
I couldn' keep it for silver nor gool—
It isn' in me—saycrets—chut!
Let them that likes them keep them—but—
Aye, aye! the mother—aw, never fail!

And—a craythur like yandher,
And not even a name to his tail—
And the goose and the gandher
I was, and the low and demaynin'—
Aye, and the wicked and sinful—and would I be deignin'
To take such a thing for my son-in-law? dirt! just dirt!
From the road, she said; and the hurt! the hurt
Her friends would be, she was sayin', the Gicks, aye the Gicks—
The Gicks of Kirk Bride! the hurt, the insulted; six,
She said, six daughters, all married on farmers, the fuss
Of the country, she said, “but her—aw dear! aw dear!
The wife of Nicholas Tear—
And her heart would buss.
And what would the daughter be callin'? what?
Mrs. Neddy—eh? aye, Neddies enough for the matter of that—
And well if people'd keep to their station—
And Neddies and dunkeys and dirts and desperation!”

470

That's the way Nicky tould me—dreadful bother!
But, some way or another,
She'd got very quite of late—
Very, he said; and we come to the gate—
And—“Kitty has got some life
Now,” he says; “and a splandid wife
She'll make,” says Nicky; and—doubts? no, he heddin!
And—“We'll have the weddin'
Directly,” he says—yes, blow 'm!
Directly Saul comes home—
Directly—
“Saul! Saul!” thinks I;
“Is it Saul? Well, never say die!”

So in I goes; and the misthriss gracious thallure,
But silent, terbil silent, to be sure!
And her mouth like a vice, like a rivet,
Like houldin' on,
Like waitin'—look out, my son!
That's the surt 'll give it—
All or none!

And that night, when the gel come in,
Astonishin'
The nice this Neddy was, and the careful too—
Not a bill or a coo
Urrov him once, and Kitty as quite as quite,
And readin', and not much of a light,
Some surt of a track,
I doubt, and threw her head back,
And looked like she'd look into heaven; and me
That tould them of Saul, and how long he would be;
And the mother's eye—just a snip, just a snap,
Just a—bless your sowl! and the dhrap
Of the thread on her lap—
Aw, aisy enough to see! aw, bless the woman!
Skaddhin' or skate—
Wait, then, wait!
Saul was comin'.

471

And Saul came—
Fire and flame!
No name?
This chap, and coortin' Kitty Tear,
Carryin' everything before him theer,
Cock of the walk?
By the Lord, he'd balk
The beggar, he said;
He'd know his name, and how he was born, and how he was bred—
Nice tricks!
But he'd have to pack from the Sherragh Vane
In quick sticks.
And—“You're my friend,
Tom Baynes,” he says. “All right!
And we'll have it out with him this very night.”

So I didn' let on what Nicky had said—
What was the use?
And sure enough, when we went to bed
In the garret
He went arrit
Like the deuce—
Aw, the whole bilin'!
By gough! I saw the mother smilin'
When he kissed her;
And the smile was half a smile and half a blister.

But any way she had her desire,
And the fat was in the fire—
Up in that garret—goodness! the row!
And where, and how,
And when, and who?
And the ould gentleman's own hollabaloo!
Questions! questions! aw, the brewer's big pan o' them,
And never waitin' for an answer to one o' them.

And—“What's your name?” he said,
And struck the bed

472

Terbil vicious.
“I'll tell you what it is, I'm suspicious
You're one of these runagate scamps
That tramps
The counthry, and 's come to some grief
With the police,” says Paul; “a thief,
A thief,” he says, “that's what ye are:
A thief, I'll swar.
And the likes o' you don' dar'
Have a name;
And so you came
To the Isle of Man.”
Bless me! how the tongue of him ran!

But this chap was patient though, and the quite ye never seen,
Quite uncommon; for it's mad enough he must ha' been
To bear such abuse.
“Hurroose! hurroose!”
Says I;
“Stand by!
Hould hard.
Saul!” I says, “I don't regard
For vagabones,” I says, “no more till you—no, not a rap;
But still this chap is seemin' a dacent chap;
And he's worked faithful on the farm, and you've heard the old man praisin'
This Ned, for the honest and the skilful; and no doubt there's a raison
Why he can't be tellin' his name, no doubt;
And the truth 'll come out
Some day,” I says, “and there'll be no disgrace in,
Not a bit of it,” I says; “just hidlin's lek,
Hidlin's—the way there's plenty, I expec'—
Aye, plenty, and honest chaps enough, and can't help it.”

473

Aw, he reg'lar yelpit,
Did Saul; and me to be takin' his part!
And the two of us would start
The very next morning—aye start! he said—
“Not me,” says Ned;
“I'm your father's servant, and not yours.”
And he shouts and he roors,
This Saul, like all the bulls of Bashan—
“Then what's your name, and what's your nation?
And what the this and the that are ye maenin'?
Is there to be no complainin',
But just for you and Kitty to go
And get spliced? and no more about it?”
And God d---him! did he know
There must be a stiffcate, and a licence, and how'd he get them
Without a name?
Idikkiliss!
Hit or miss,
He'd have an end of this—
Yis!
“You dirt,” he said, “you common scrub!
You beggar's cub!
You'll be slopin' from here, that's what you'll be do'n',
And precious soon.”

Then says Ned, very patient, but his eyes all aflame—
“What would hinder me to take a name,
A false name? d'ye hear?
And marry your sister, Saul Tear,
In that name? What would hinder me, eh?
To do that, if I'm all the villains you say?”

“False name, false marriage—sartinly!
What'd hinder him? what'd hinder him?” says I.
What'd hinder?
Steel and tinder!
Tyre and Sidon!
Saul was blazin'!
Foamin'! “The raison!

474

The raison,” he says,
“Your name's goin' a-hidin'?”

“That's my business,” says Ned, quite firm.
“So it is,” says I; for he wasn' no worm,
I seen, this Ned, nor no weasle, nor no funk,
But tuk his part like a lad of spunk,
But patient—cool—not a mossil flarried —
So I backed him, I did—“We don't mean to be married,”
Says Ned, “all the same,
Till I can claim
My own name,
And hould up my head
In the sight of God and man,” says Ned.
“And no more you will,' says I,
“And never say die!
And fair field and no favour!
And braver! braver!”

Saul was chokin';
And no more was spoken
That night. And, bless ye! next day,
When we'd supped our porridge, and a taste of tay
At the women—aye—and out on the work,
This ould Turk,
This Nicky Tear,
Up with him theer
And what d'ye think?
In a clap, in a twink,
Makes the two of them stand
Right out on the floor—
Aye, to be sure!
Ned and Kitty, and hand in hand—
Made them take hands,
And there they stands.

475

And then says Nicky—“Take witness,” he says,
“Thomas Baynes, and all the rest,
Friends lek in general, —take witness,” says he,
“These two is engaged to be married, and married they'll be,”
And gave a nod—
“Married they'll be, so help me God!
He said it as sharp as a knife;
But his face bust a smilin' directly, and ups to the wife,
And kisses her theer,
All stiff in her cheer,
That said nothin',
But turnin' the tip of her ear,
Like a stone, like a slate—very tryin'!
But Saul gev a leap like a lion—
I thought there'd been bother,
But stopped at a look from the mother.

So out to the shearin', the lot —
And a beautiful spot—
Very nice it's appearin',
Shearin',
That high,
Like reg'lar up in the sky—
And the chimley smookin'
Below, and all that blue and curled,
And just like lookin'—
Lookin'—lookin' all over the world.
Very nice in them places;
And whips off my braces—
Nicky's rig though—Nicky and me,
For 'ciety —
Would hev it!
And as right as a trevit —
Nicky to shear, and me to bind—
But Saul stayed behind—
Aye, the best of an hour,
Did Saul; and the misthress? well, she stayed too—

476

But—of coorse, of coorse!—a power to do
In a house like yandher.

Then Nicky tould
All the throuble of his sowl—
“How is it,” he said, “they're doin' it—
The women, eh? for they'll sit and sit,
And sew and sew, and never let on,
But they'll watch their chance, they'll watch, my son,
And they'll have ye, they'll have ye! yis, the wife of your bosom!
Or should be—what? aw, the Lord knows'm—
The Lord knows'm, but I dōn'.
Not a word, not the smallest taste of a groan—
But all on the look, on the feel, on the spring,
On the hair-trigger—that's the thing.
Yis, even at night—aw dear! aw dear!
Like a barrel of powder in the bed with ye theer.”

“But you spoke very plain to her this mornin',”
Says I, “very bould, very plucky, like scornin'
All oppogician,” I says. “Lay high!
That's your road, Mr. Tear,” says I—
“Stick to that—keep her at that—
Hould your luff —you'll beat her yet—
Yis, you will! You're a man with a sperrit;
Keep your eye on the thing, and you'll gerr it —
You'll gerr it,” I says. “But, Saul,” says he,
“Didn' ye see?
He's against it too—
It'll never do.
Fit to ate me directly I spoke—
Ye seen him! hearts of oak—
Is it? iron 'd be more lek it—
Stiff-neckit! stiff-neckit!
Allis kickin' up a dust—
And didn' take to him from the fuss.”

477

And “Ye seen him, Saul?” and I nodded—Machree!
“The two of them! that's too many for me.
Aw, yes it is—I can make a row,
And shout and defy—aw, that I'll allow—
Anything hearty, anything free—
Cussin', tearin' —that's me! that's me!
But saycrets—schaemin' —plannin'—rot me!
No, no! they've got me there! they've got me—
No chance at all—I don't know how to fix them,
Not a hayporth; there's somethin' betwix' them
This very minute, I know there is.”
“Have your way with them,” I says:
“Have your way with them; chut! chut!
You'll aisy do it.” “No, I'll not,”
Says Nicky, and gettin' rather hot—
In temper, I mean.

And “Look here!” he says,
“It's ill-becomin' to spake amiss
Of one's own wife; but, if you'll considher,
It isn' azackly that ither —
No, it isn'—it's difference lek
Of people—we're not the one speck,
Nor the one spot, nor the one hide —
Me from the mountains, her from Kirk Bride.
Lek here the air is keen and quick,
And there the air is slow and thick.
And there the soil is heavy stuff,
And here the soil is only a scruff.
So there they're all for calkerlatin',
Schaemin', dodgin', workin' the patin' —
Manure? aye—proud tremenjis,
Proud, man, proud, not willin' of strenjis
Dailin' with them—sartinly—
In business lek accordantly;

478

But likin' them? no! just jallus, jallus!
No, I wouldn' call it malice—
But nothin' friendly, nothin' gennal —
And me—my gough! I'd like to spen' all
My life with the like, lek standin' on a rock,
Lek crowin' to them like a cock—
‘Come up! come up! and how d'ye do to ye?
And cock-a-doodle-doodle-doo to ye!
I don't disregard ye, and I don't fear ye;
But I like to see ye, and I like to hear ye.’
Strange talk, of course, but pleasant to me—
‘Ooze is this aoose?’ and fiddlededee—
Not comin' often, nor never knowin'
Who are they at all, just comin' and goin'
And steep, ye know, and a middlin' pull,
And longin' for them pitiful—
The talk and all that differing—
Do ye see the thing? do ye see the thing?
And Mrs. Tear—that's knowin' a dale
About the lek; and used of a sale
Of stock ev'ry year—and reg'lar raps—
Aw, sartinly—these Whitehaven chaps
At the Ballagick, and imp'rin' amazin',
And thricks and lies; so that's the raison—
Aw, sartinly. But lonesome here—
Lonesome enough. So Mrs. Tear
Has got her notions. But me—my gough!
If I'm only hearin' one of them cough—
The change, eh? —and I don't know is it right,
But I'm over the hedge, and agate o' them straight.
Newance —yis—but natheral,
Isn' it? But Saul—aye Saul,
Saul and the mother—suspicious, eh?
Suspicious lek a body might say—
Suspicious, Mrs. Tear and Saul;

479

But me! aw, bless ye! not at all.”
And Ned.

And then he tould me the splendid
He was, till I thought he'd never ended—
Fuss-rate, he said, the jography,
The this and that, and as free as free,
And cipherin' lek, and good at the pen,
But tould me before, and where and when
And who—and still for all no harm—
Couldn' be beat on a mountain farm—
And got that 'cited that he swore and swore
It's Kitty he should have; and the more
'Cited he got—the quicker he cut,
Till I hardly could bind for him—foot for foot,
Sheaf for sheaf, and a clip and a toss—
Aw, a 'citable ould chap he was!

But, just lavin' off, says Nicky to me—
“We'll see,” he says, “we'll see, we'll see!
Maybe two against two,” he says;
“There's no mistake about you,” he says.
“All right! all right!
We'll see to-night.
I'll have a talk with her, you'll be bound —
Jinny Clague, from Kirk Marown—
Kitty's cousin,” he says. “She's comin'
To-night,” he says; “and I'm a rum 'n
If I don't get her to take my side—
They're terbil high, them ones at Kirk Bride.
Jinny, Jinny! that's it!
Wait a bit!
You'll see, Thomas—I'll bet a cow!
But mind you'll be civil to her now—
Civil, civil—” “That's aisy done,”
Says I. “All right! all right, my son!
All right; but rather fond of Saul,
That'll be like a wall
Against me.” “Never mind!” says I;
“We can only try.

480

Is she nice-lookin', Mr. Tear?”
“Wait till ye see her,”
Says Nicky; and gettin' rather late—
“Aw well, I'll wait,” I says, “I'll wait;
Waitin's no crime.”

So Jinny come about supper time.
She was rather squinny,
Was Jinny—
Cross-eyed—just so—
And, whether or no,
Rather undersized,
Rather blackavised—
Aw, 'deed she was; but a bright little sthuggher
This Jenny—sharpish, wantin' shugger,
It's likely—aw, wantin' shugger, no doubt—
But a reg'lar whiskin' turn-about
Of a thing—like spinnin' —like a tee-to-tum—
Finger and thumb—
Tick, tock,
Dickery-dock —
And the eye not so bad, like a keyhole rather—
But, the holy father!
The fire that came out of it—black, black, black—
Skutes of fire.

Aw, a bright little tight little wobbler,
And carried her own little box like a hobbler,
And put it down on the floor. And then
At it the two of them went like sin—
At who? at what? Why, these two madarms—
Runnin' in one another's arms—
It's a way they have, I don't know the why,
But they must, I suppose, and ye'll see them fly—
My gough, the fly! and looks like escapin',
Like takin' refuge from the men, that's gapin'
As awkward theer, and never no notion

481

To touch them—what? But such a commotion!
Such a twitter! aw, never belave me!
And clings to each other like—“Save me! save me!”
Or is it—“Ah! ye dar'n'! ye dar'n'!
Freckened of ye? no we ar'n'—
And how would ye like to be like this?”
And kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and kiss—
Idikkiliss!
But bless them!

So there they sat and sat,
All twisted together like a plat,
Till bed-time; and out and up to their room
Twisted still, like a surt of a bloom
Of a double flower,
“In a bower,
After a shower”—
At laste, . . . I mean. . . .

But, bill and coo—
This went on for a day or two—
And then I noticed that Jinny,
Squinny
Or not,
Every shot
Of her eye
Knew well where to fly—
Straight
As the sun's own light—
Aw, the divil and all!
Never off Saul, never off Saul.

And then this little game began.
Here's the plan—
Saul lettin' on
He was gettin' fond
Of Jinny, that never cared a rap for her,
Never a scrap for her;
But what for? You'll hear, you'll hear!
Never fear!

482

Two-and-two was the game to act—
Kitty and Ned on the one tack,
And Jinny and Saul—of coorse they went—
Aw, it wasn' much encouragement
Jinny wanted. Bless ye! she gorras
Happy as happy—all cares and sorras
Was off to Guinea;
She didn' think of the when and the why—
Reg'lar up in heaven was Jinny—
Her and her eye!

But I shouldn' be makin' fun
Of the poor sowl.
Once they're begun,
How can ye conthroul
These despard feelins'? I don't know.
It's hard anyway, and very hard
For them that's squintin'; for they don't regard
For nothin' nor nobody, nor never thinkin'—
They're that driven—
But works the eye away like winkin'.
Of coorse, what else? Isn' it given
For that? It's out of the eye
That love let's fly
His arrows—lookee!
And if they shoot crooky—
I raelly don't know—
It's the fault of the bow,
Maybe; but still,
Perhaps, when you shoots with a will,
With strength and might,
It'll straighten the flight.
Or, like enough, a dale depands
On the way they're tuk; like candle ends,
They're better till nothin'; but I'd rather a lamp—
But light is light—
Lek makin' believe they're all right—
The little scamp.
So bless the woman!

483

Her and Saul got on uncommon.
And the ould chap tried, aw, he tried hard,
In the house, in the yard,
In the field, everywhere—
Tried a surt of a coortin' there—
A surt, but tervil ould-fashioned, ye know—
Ould-fashioned, ould-fashioned! aw, a bit of a beau
In his time, no doubt, but differin'
With young people. Aye, a chuck o' the chin;
Slips his arm round her waist, whips her up on his knee;
Sings tribble, and rather makin' free;
Looks at Saul, looks at me, gives one of his winks,
And you never heard the compliminks!

But no good, not a bit, only apt to provoke
The misthriss to fancy; but saw through the joke—
Did the misthriss—aye, and knew very well
What was he afthar, and aisy to tell.
So the misthriss took all as pleasant as pleasant,
Only like thinkin' it right to be present;
Aw, yis, —just the way lek she studied the plan
Of a sensible wife with a foolish ould man,
And young gels about.

Just so,
And we'd all of us go
Of an ev'rin' and sit on the settle
In the little bit of a garden they had,
Each lass with her lad;
And the poor ould dad
Lek stung with a nettle,
That he couldn' keep quite —
Like a chap that was tight—
And gettin' up a laugh,
And a bit of chaff,
And as well in his bed;
And nobody mindin' what was it he said,
Except me, for I pitied the poor ould file;
And maybe the misthriss'd give a smile.

484

But it got that sweet betwix' Jinny and Saul,
At last, that there wasn' no call
For any of us to interfere;
And we'd be sittin' theer,
And them two crept away
Somewhere in the hay,
Or goodness knows—
And these others'd stray
Away
Out on the hill
As paysible!
And the misthriss into the house,
And Nicky as quite as a mouse—
Only a sigh—and—“Thomas, my pickaninny,
We must do without Jinny.”

And then I'd turn to, and whistle and whistle.
No trees, not so big as a thistle,
Up yandher, not even a bush,
That 'd shalthar a thrush
Or a blackbird or that, not even a thorn nor a thrammon —
No. And plovers, of coorse, is common
Enough, and curlews; but them things,
If they sings,
It's as much —very far, very wild,
Like for a child,
Lek lost on the hills. “Lost! lost!” they're callin',
When the night is fallin',
And the wind is fair for them—
Well, I don't care for them.
So, ye see, no wood,
So I done what I could—
Whistled and whistled, I'll be bail;
And thought a dale—thought a dale.

So at last the night of the melya arrived;
And that very night this Jinny contrived,
By coaxin' and dodgin', by this and by that,
By laughin' and cryin', and the divil knows what,

485

To get the name—aw, wrong of them both!
But still, for all her Bible-oath,
Not a word to a sowl; and longin' to tell,
To some gel,
The name—the name she loved so well.
Aw, poor Kitty!—there's never no knowin'—
Ye don't see it? Well, lave it alone!
I was only statin' —you're very ann'yin'; —
Statin' isn' justifyin'.
And Jinny?
Jinny had only the one notion—
To plaise her Saul, and get him to love her—
Aw, it's the land of Goshen
She thought she was goin' to be in that night,
Or heaven itself, I wouldn' thrus'
Hers, hers, hers—he muss! he muss!

But, as far as I can discover,
It's little joy or delight
She got—no, no!
Expectin' though—
Expected sartin: thought she would bind him
To her heart for ever. Slippin' behind him,
I saw her, I saw her—slipt like a snake
To his ear, and a whisper—“Edward Blake”—
The chap's name. Hear I cuddn' —
But it must ha' been that—she done it that sudden.
But the sudd'ner she done it, the sudd'ner Saul
Gave a leap to the door,
And her after him straight; but no use for to call
Nor to run;
He was off like a shot from a gun;
And she spent the night cryin' far out on the moor.

And where was he then?
Wait, wait, my men!
One thing I'll tell ye—
I'll just be that bould —

486

From the night of that melya
Nither her nor me, nor a sowl
At the Sherragh Vane,
Ever saw Saul again—
Ever, ever—aw, lave it to me!
You'll see! you'll see!

The melya was over, and all gone away,
And everythin' silent, except Nicky snorin'—
And snore he did till he shuk the floorin'—
So at break of day
I tuk my bundle, and started for Ramsey to catch
The Liverpool steamer; and just where a patch
Of fine red ling runs out to the brew —
Behould ye Jinny!
Runnin' to meet me too—
Runnin' to meet me, thought I was Saul she had,
But she swealed like mad—
Swealed urrov her like a ghost—
And I stood like a post,
And stared, and I said—
“Are ye wrong in your head?
I doubt you done some mischief to-night,
Ye nasty thing!”
So she picked a bit of the ling,
And tried to look careless, and tuk to the right,
And me to the left, and tuk the fence,
And never seen her sence.

No—for, I'll tell ye, this
Was Saturday mornin'. On the Wednesday,
When we were at say
Far away,
Me on my ship, and Saul on his,
Comes every policeman they had in Ramsey—aye—
To the Sherragh Vane—aw, never say die!
Billy-Bill-Sil, and Tom—Juan—Sam—Harry—Phaul,
And Dicky-Dick-beg—Dick—Bob, and Lace Clucas and all.
Lace—you'll mind Lace—
Mortal big round the waist—

487

Shuperintendin'-Inspector, or somethin' o' that surt—bless ye!
And “Edward Blake, I arrest ye
In the Queen's name,” and whereas, and a jag and a jumble,
And—mumble, mumble, mumble.

And he gave in at wance —
That was the sanse —
Gave in; and “I'm ready to go
With you now, if I must.” But—blast! and blow!
And God d---! and “What's this?”
And quivers the fiss —
Poor Nicky, you know—
But soon as make
As a lamb at Blake—
The way, you see, he trusted the chap.
And Kitty? cryin'? not a scrap—
Aw, a wife for a man, and no mistake.
Yes; she kissed him, kissed him dear—
Tuk and kissed him theer:
But no 'sterricks, I'm tould, no nisin', no bother—
Just a look at the mother,
Just a couple of momen's,
And these words
Like swords,
From her mouth, from her eyes, from the woman all over,
“Edward Blake is my lover,
My love, my life;
And I'll be his wife,
Or I'll never be no man's.”
That was all—
Eh, Saul?
Just that, and away she goes,
To get ready his clothes.
And what was the row
That Blake was in?

488

I'll tell you now—
Chartisin'.
You don't remember; but still
There's some of you won't, and some of you will—
Chartisisses —
Them that don't want the Queen for their missus—
Five pints —what d'ye call it?—
Manward suff'rings, vote by ballot—
A pasil of d---nonsense, no doubt—
Of coorse, of coorse! and all gone out
Long before now. But the young
This Blake was then he was tuk with the tongue
Of these swagg'rin' scoundhrils that get on a tub
And roor,
To be sure—
And the people dyin' for want of grub,
And ready for anything: and Blake
Turned out with the rest; for he wouldn' forsake
The Cause, as he called it. And any ould gun,
Or pistol, or pitchfork, and off they run
To the commons there, and stood to their arms
In swarms.

But the souldiers come
With sword and drum;
And a terbil fight, and thousands kilt—
Long thousands! and the blood that was spilt
Most terbil, I'm tould;
And hardly a sowl
Got away
That day.
Blake didn' tell me—no;
I've heard it from others, though.
Treminjis slaughter, and the lot of them scattered—aw, facks!
So Blake made tracks
For the Cumberland mountains; and at Ravenglass
He got aboord one of these smacks,
Or a mackarel boat, or a lugger it was—

489

Handy anyway, and terbil willin',
And landed him at Maughold Head,
And of coorse without a shillin'—
Without a penny.

The rascal, you said?
At Maughold Head, at Maughold Head—
No rascal at all, divil a bit of him!
You don't know the fit of him—
No—bless ye! in the Isle of Man
We don't understand
These “Polly Tricks,”
And “knavish thricks”—
And “our hopes we fix”—
Lek it's sayin' in the song—
Right or wrong—
And The Cause! The Cause!
And Freedom! and all about these laws
That's oppressin' the people. Just our own ways
Is doin' for us—and the House of Keys —
Dear me!
They was used to be
Dacent men enough, and put in
At one another, that was answerin'
Fuss-rate, but now I'm tould
They make so bould
To be chised at the people—quite diff'rin' cattle—
And its tittle-tattle, rittle-rattle—
Sleet and hail—
Like a tin pot tied to the Governor's tail—
Poor man! But aisy to talk!
And put in for to make the law,
But better to hould your jaw—
Aw, better a dale!

490

And take a chap the way you find him,
Particklar if he laves his bosh behind him—
D'ye hear? just so.

Well, Blake had to go,
Under the ould warrant that was out agen him
All the time, and the Demster to send him
“Out of the Isle,”
To Lancaster Castle, to stand his tri'l.

Saul it was, Saul it was,
That done the jeel; he was down on the Cross
At Ramsey straight
From the melya that night,
And, before the day-lift,
Knocked up the High Bailiff,
That couldn' act
Till all was corract—
Writs and that, and kermoonicated
With the Gov'nor, of coorse. But Saul didn' wait
To see the stren'th of his own shot—
It's away he got
To Liverpool, and aboord of a ship
At once; and, that very trip,
He was lost overboard in a squall—
Was Saul!

So Jinny didn' get much good
Of her schames—the price of blood—
That was it—and stayed a week
Longer; but Kitty wouldn' speak
A word with her, good or bad—
And no letter
From Saul. So she had
To go at last; for even the misthriss said
She thought it was better.
I believe she got married on a widow man,
That was keepin' a public-house, by the name of Dan—

491

“Danny the Prince”
They were callin' him; but his name was Cregeen;
But I never seen
The woman since.

Now Kitty had to hope and hope
Against hope;
For it seemed a case of the rope
Did yandher.
Aye! And this kind ould goosey-gandhar
Of a Nicky was terbil good to her—
Backed her, stud to her;
Kept up her heart, and kept up his own—
Bless ye! no knowin'
The hot little biler
Of kindness and love that was under the weskit
Of Nicky. Not that the misthriss would resk it
To rile her.
And no naggin', nor both'rin', nor fussin' to
Get her to think of another,
At the mother—
It's time the misthriss was trussin' to.

But now lizzen!
In this prison,
Where Blake was put, some rapscallion
Got up a reballion,
And a lot of thieves and murderers,
And such-like curs,
Jined him to set the jail
On fire; and done it—never fail!
The dirt!
And the gov'nor out in his shirt,
And his wife, and his daughter—
And—“Water! water!”
And—“All you men that's men, come here,
And stick to me!” and Blake, I'll sweer,
Was the very first—aw, keen as a knife!
And saved the daughter, and saved the wife—

492

And him and the chaps
That joined the gov'nor, I heard them sayin',
Beat these raps—
Beat them clane —
And—of coorse! of coorse! What'll you take
But—“A free pardon for Edward Blake!!”
Aye down from London the very next day—
Hurrah for Queen Victoria!
That's the woman that can and will—
Eh, Bill?
Hurrah! hurrah!

Yes, he was pardoned, and me to know't,
And happen aboord the very boat
He was crossin' to the Island on—
My gough! the fun
That was arrus theer—
Ould Captain Creer
And that—the yarns that was spinnin'—
And glasses round,
You'll be bound,
And even the very firemen grinnin',
That's lookin' rather fierce with the shoot.

And ashore—and the cart, and Kitty to boot—
Nicky? of coorse! and him and me
On the till, and bitendin' not to see.
And—this and that, and how we'd prosber'd.
But Kitty and Blake inside on the crossboard,
As happy. And—look at them? No, I didn'!
Only the cart made a joult,
Like a boult
Givin' way—and I turned—and her face was hidden
In Blake's breast—
You may 'margin the rest.

And up to the farm; and this ould cockalorum
Of a Nick carried everything before him—

493

The deuce!
No use
The misthriss houldin' out—aw, floored
Reg'lar —aye; and what can't be cured
Must be endured.

So the ship was righted,
And smooth water,
And a son and a daughter
Still for all—
And poor Saul!
And I stayed to the weddin', bein' invited.

First.

Voyage.

Desperately.

We shall be going at it.

Gorse.

Especially in a case of.

Indeed he certainly was.

Enough (like Italian assai)=very.

At him=belonging to him.

Excellent.

Steady.

As if frightened.

Against.

Trouble.

Cold.

Care.

Fist.

“My heart!”—a term of endearment.

Explains.

By.

She had no notion=she never thought.

Who has been told.

Get out!=certainly not!

Tut.

To.

First.

Burst.

Dirty=contemptible creatures.

Quiet.

Ease or comfort.

Had not.

Enough=very.

Out of=on his part.

Quiet.

Tract.

Dropping.

Herring or skate=no matter what.

Betray.

At it.

Large quantity (expresion used in the Anglo-Manx song of “We'll hunt the wren”).

Swear.

Don't dare.

Quiet.

You never saw such quietness.

Quiet.

Care.

Than.

In=in existence, superfluous adverb.

Hiding=any outlaw, fugitive from justice, or even retirer from the world only, is said to be “in hidlin's.”

As.

Yelped.

Certificate.

Ridiculous.

Yes.

=Is a-hiding: going is superfluous, but almost universally used in such constructions.

Morsel, bit.

fluried.

Bravo! (a reminiscence of some Liverpool theatr).

Had been taken by.

When we were just going out to.

Burst into.

Goes up to.

Chair.

Reaping.

All of us.

Division of the field assigned to.

Society=company.

Trivet.

(She had) a great deal.

Betray themselves.

Don't.

Take the high hand.

Sail close to the wind.

Get it.

He was ready to eat.

Iron would.

Like.

First.

“My heart!” Here used as an interjection of sorrow.

Doing something uproarious.

Scheming.

Tut!

Exactly.

Either.

Speck, spot, and hide=metaphor from skins of animals as showing marks of difference.

For example.

Using patent manure.

Liking.

Strangers.

In accordance with their business as farmers.

Jealous.

Genial.

Whose is this house? [mimicking the English(!) accent].

The way up to the farm is.

And I am.

Accustomed at Ballagick, her father's place, to have a sale of stock.

Cattle-dealers.

Impudent.

Get into conversation with.

Novelty.

As one might say.

For a certainty.

Rum one.

Squinting.

Thick-set person.

Sugar.

Some notion of symmetry and nattiness is conveyed by these words.

Squirts, jets.

Brisk person.

Harbour-porter.

The men have no idea of touching them.

Dare not.

Afraid.

Ridiculous.

Plait.

Pretending.

Got as.

Sorrows.

Taken.

Treble.

You never heard such compliments.

Yes.

Just as if.

The best way for a wife to deal.

Evening.

Quiet.

As peaceably as could be.

Shelter.

Elder-tree.

It's as much as they do=it's barely singing.

Harvest-home.

Annoying.

Would not trust=I'm pretty certain.

Must.

Could not.

However suddenly.

Take the liberty.

Hill-side.

Squealed.

Out of.

Since.

Probably jargon.

Imperfect recollections of legal phraseology.

Once.

Showed his sense.

Fist.

Meek.

In the hands; through the interposition of.

Hysterics.

Noise.

Moments.

Chartists.

The five points of the Charter.

Probably “Manhood Suffrage.”

Parcel.

Taken.

Moors.

It's a fact.

Very willing to take him on board.

The cut, the kind of fellow he was.

Politics.

The Lower House of the Manx Legislature.

Elected by.

As to be chosen by.

Deal. The reference is to the change made in the mode of electing the members of the Manx Parliament. Since 1866 they have been chosen by the popular vote. Before that they were elected by co-optation.

Against.

Deemster=judge.

Sent.

Mischief.

Market-place.

Chief magistrate of a town.

Communicated.

To.

That did.

Boiler.

Risk.

On the part of.

Trusting.

Listen.

Swear.

Clean, completely.

At us=that we had.

You may be very sure.

Soot.

Till-board in front.

Pretending.

Prospered.

Imagine.

(She was) regularly floored.

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II. PART II