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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
From that very day there wasn' a sowl
Interferin'; but Jack got foul
Of these tailor-lads and all the rout,
And he wouldn' have them comin' about.
And he went to Brew, and he axed him to act—
“It's puffeck scandalous,” says Jack,
“Puffeck scandalous.”—“And you,
What are you after then?” says Brew—
“Aye, man, aye? if I may make so bould.”
So Jack bucked up to him, and tould
All about it. And—“Bless my life!
And is she goin' to be your wife?
Yours?” says Brew, “engaged, it's lek?
Engaged is it? a purty speck!”
“No,” says Jack, “but goin' to be—
Coortin.”—“Coortin'! fiddlededee!
Botheration! what d'ye say?
You're coortin' reg'lar? Coort away!
But these collaghs that's comin' about the farm
Of an evenin'—bless my sowl! What harm?
Rather company, lek a surt of a cheerin'.”
Interferin'; but Jack got foul
Of these tailor-lads and all the rout,
And he wouldn' have them comin' about.
And he went to Brew, and he axed him to act—
“It's puffeck scandalous,” says Jack,
“Puffeck scandalous.”—“And you,
What are you after then?” says Brew—
“Aye, man, aye? if I may make so bould.”
So Jack bucked up to him, and tould
All about it. And—“Bless my life!
And is she goin' to be your wife?
Yours?” says Brew, “engaged, it's lek?
Engaged is it? a purty speck!”
“No,” says Jack, “but goin' to be—
Coortin.”—“Coortin'! fiddlededee!
Botheration! what d'ye say?
You're coortin' reg'lar? Coort away!
But these collaghs that's comin' about the farm
Of an evenin'—bless my sowl! What harm?
Rather company, lek a surt of a cheerin'.”
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |