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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
Honour bright! I seen the book
Years after, and even a look
Was down, and how much was countin' for it,
'Longside the name of the chap that gorrit —
Somethin' like—Jeremiah Wilde—
Looked at him in the chapel, and smiled—
Two marks; Dick Clucas passin' the farrim,
And Nessy hove a priddha arrim.
One mark and a half—Nathaniel Fathom—
Nessy held the hymn-book with him
Last Sunday, countin' seven marks—
Lek that ye know—aw dear, the larks!
Nonsense you're thinkin'? Aw, lek enough!
But I hardly think ye know the stuff
Them Laxdale chaps is made of, no—
Curious very, treminjis though.
Years after, and even a look
Was down, and how much was countin' for it,
'Longside the name of the chap that gorrit —
Somethin' like—Jeremiah Wilde—
Looked at him in the chapel, and smiled—
Two marks; Dick Clucas passin' the farrim,
And Nessy hove a priddha arrim.
One mark and a half—Nathaniel Fathom—
Nessy held the hymn-book with him
Last Sunday, countin' seven marks—
Lek that ye know—aw dear, the larks!
Nonsense you're thinkin'? Aw, lek enough!
But I hardly think ye know the stuff
Them Laxdale chaps is made of, no—
Curious very, treminjis though.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |