 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
But Brew, the father—
It's lek you're thinkin' it curious rather
He was navar hearin' them at these games.
Well, lizzen to me; that man was the same's
A pig for the sleepin' and the snorin'—
See-saw! Margery Daw!
Roarin', borin'—
No starts, no snarts arrim —studdy he done it,
Studdy directly he begun it—
Say about half-past eight or that
Till maybe four in the mornin'—chat!
Yandhar man! you could hear pretty farrish
The snore of him—fit to shake the parish.
It's lek you're thinkin' it curious rather
He was navar hearin' them at these games.
Well, lizzen to me; that man was the same's
A pig for the sleepin' and the snorin'—
See-saw! Margery Daw!
Roarin', borin'—
No starts, no snarts arrim —studdy he done it,
Studdy directly he begun it—
Say about half-past eight or that
Till maybe four in the mornin'—chat!
Yandhar man! you could hear pretty farrish
The snore of him—fit to shake the parish.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |