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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
Fuss-rate—ye see the chap
Wasn' worth the smallest scrap
At lovin', no! it was dooiney-mollain'
That he was good for, follain', follain',
Buckin' up, lek what you'd call a—
Well, you know—a dooiney-molla—
That's it—lek semperthisin'
Pirriful —aw, quite surprisin'—
Yis—lek lovin' just to be theer,
Just to lizzen—this Harry Creer—
Aye, and, every kiss that was go'n',
Just to give a little moan
Urrov him, very low and soft,
Or maybe a little bit of a cough
Or the lek; but keepin' as close as close,
That he wouldn' be missin' the smallest ghost
Of a sound or a sigh, and laenin' his chin
On Jack's shouldher, and lizzenin',
Lizzenin'—and his breath goin' pourin'
Agen Jack's ear, and had to be cow'rin'
Rather—stoopin', ye know, for the big
He was compared to Jack; and'd twig
Every little hitch that was clickin',
And Jack's heart that was goin' a tickin'
Like a clock. And Nessy up in the windher,
But none so high; and Jack to meandher
Some dodge to get nearer, to hould her hand
When she'd stretch it down, you'll understand.
Wasn' worth the smallest scrap
At lovin', no! it was dooiney-mollain'
That he was good for, follain', follain',
Buckin' up, lek what you'd call a—
Well, you know—a dooiney-molla—
That's it—lek semperthisin'
Pirriful —aw, quite surprisin'—
Yis—lek lovin' just to be theer,
Just to lizzen—this Harry Creer—
Aye, and, every kiss that was go'n',
Just to give a little moan
Urrov him, very low and soft,
Or maybe a little bit of a cough
Or the lek; but keepin' as close as close,
That he wouldn' be missin' the smallest ghost
Of a sound or a sigh, and laenin' his chin
On Jack's shouldher, and lizzenin',
Lizzenin'—and his breath goin' pourin'
Agen Jack's ear, and had to be cow'rin'
Rather—stoopin', ye know, for the big
He was compared to Jack; and'd twig
Every little hitch that was clickin',
And Jack's heart that was goin' a tickin'
Like a clock. And Nessy up in the windher,
But none so high; and Jack to meandher
Some dodge to get nearer, to hould her hand
When she'd stretch it down, you'll understand.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |