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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
Now Harry was a hearty lad,
But ter'ble hard to make him mad
About the lek: he liked a gel—
Very well—very well—
Liked her—certainly; but if he got vexed,
Or bothered, you know, just on to the next—
That was Harry—much the same
Whatever happened—a sort of craem
These chaps has got for blood: it's cool
And sweet and that, and, of a rule,
It's not aisy put out, but—liquor—well,
Of coorse, of coorse. I could hardly tell
Had Jack any blood in him, but when
The craythur was a fightin', and then
He had plenty of it and to spare,
But difficult to say the where
It was stowed at him. Harry's was in his face,
All over him was Harry's case.
But ter'ble hard to make him mad
About the lek: he liked a gel—
Very well—very well—
Liked her—certainly; but if he got vexed,
Or bothered, you know, just on to the next—
That was Harry—much the same
Whatever happened—a sort of craem
These chaps has got for blood: it's cool
524
It's not aisy put out, but—liquor—well,
Of coorse, of coorse. I could hardly tell
Had Jack any blood in him, but when
The craythur was a fightin', and then
He had plenty of it and to spare,
But difficult to say the where
It was stowed at him. Harry's was in his face,
All over him was Harry's case.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |