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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
“Maybe eggs,”
Says Nessy—“Yes, he's thinkin' a dale
Of our fresh eggs is Pazon Gale—
Tould me so.'—“Aw dear, that's rum,”
Says Brew, “and why didn' ye give him some?”
“Because he didn' ax,” says she—
“Ax? is it ax?” and “Fiddledee!
Eggs! woman, eggs! it couldn' ha' been—
Bless my sowl! the man'd be keen
For his eggs that'd come that arly—eh?
Nessy, Nessy.”—“Well, anyway,”
Says Nessy, “the Pazon's allis talkin'
About our eggs; ‘They're nice though shockin',’
He was sayin', ‘just like wax.’ ”
“My goodness grayshers! why didn' he ax?”
Says the father. “Maybe he forgot,”
Says Nessy. Then Brew got middlin' hot,
And “You're just talkin' nonsense,” he says, “be quite,
Not another word!”
Says Nessy—“Yes, he's thinkin' a dale
Of our fresh eggs is Pazon Gale—
Tould me so.'—“Aw dear, that's rum,”
Says Brew, “and why didn' ye give him some?”
“Because he didn' ax,” says she—
“Ax? is it ax?” and “Fiddledee!
Eggs! woman, eggs! it couldn' ha' been—
Bless my sowl! the man'd be keen
For his eggs that'd come that arly—eh?
Nessy, Nessy.”—“Well, anyway,”
Says Nessy, “the Pazon's allis talkin'
About our eggs; ‘They're nice though shockin',’
He was sayin', ‘just like wax.’ ”
“My goodness grayshers! why didn' he ax?”
Says the father. “Maybe he forgot,”
Says Nessy. Then Brew got middlin' hot,
And “You're just talkin' nonsense,” he says, “be quite,
Not another word!”
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |