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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
But Jack, ye see, if he had a desire
To anything, he was nothin' but fire
And rage and fury—my gough, the sperrit!
And wouldn' give in afore he'd gerrit —
Wouldn'! mortal uncomfible
To have daelin's with the lek, for they will,
And they will and they will, and it isn' no use;
Can't help it, it's lek, houldin' on like the deuce;
Like these bull-dogs, when once they're gript the teeth,
There's nothin' 'll slacken them, only death.
To anything, he was nothin' but fire
And rage and fury—my gough, the sperrit!
And wouldn' give in afore he'd gerrit —
Wouldn'! mortal uncomfible
To have daelin's with the lek, for they will,
And they will and they will, and it isn' no use;
Can't help it, it's lek, houldin' on like the deuce;
Like these bull-dogs, when once they're gript the teeth,
There's nothin' 'll slacken them, only death.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |