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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
And sure enough it's dark they hev
it
Often enough; but as right as a trevit,
And comfible that way in your clothes—
Aw, it's doin' a dale, and goodness knows
Why, but it does; and maybe two'n
The mornin' at ye, a big strong moon
'll swim out of a cloud, and you to stand there
Lookin' up, and her in the wandhar
Lookin' down—and you like her to see
Your face as bright as a thingummagee,
And your handkecher, and all to that,
Nate, man, nate, and a cock on your hat,
Like a surt of a buck; and look at her—
The clane she is, and the tickelar.
Often enough; but as right as a trevit,
And comfible that way in your clothes—
Aw, it's doin' a dale, and goodness knows
Why, but it does; and maybe two'n
The mornin' at ye, a big strong moon
'll swim out of a cloud, and you to stand there
Lookin' up, and her in the wandhar
Lookin' down—and you like her to see
Your face as bright as a thingummagee,
And your handkecher, and all to that,
Nate, man, nate, and a cock on your hat,
Like a surt of a buck; and look at her—
The clane she is, and the tickelar.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |