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And sometimes he'd get a-top of a tub,
Or anything that was handy, a scrub
Of a trammon that was growin' there—
Aw, lave him alone! aw, navar fear!
Bless ye! he was soople was Jack;
And sometimes gettin' on Harry's back,
And standin' on Harry's shouldher, and flingin'
His arms round Nessy's neck, and bringin'
Her face to his in the very middle
Of the honeysuckles—aw then the thriddle
Of thrimblin' that shivered the back of this Harry—
Semperthisin'—bless ye! very—
Semperthisin'—didn' I say?
Semperthisin' anyway.
“Get down!” says Nessy, “don't ye see
That Harry is tired?”—“Not me! not me!”
And just like a mason with his hod,
As stiff—and beggin' for the love of God
They'd go on; and gevvin' a surt of a coo—
“Aw keep it up! aw do! aw do!”
And as strong as a bull, and wouldn' be beat.
But sweethearts can't be allis like that,
With a fellow to lizzen to all they're say'n'—
Bless your sowl! the thing is plain—
Can't: so sometimes Harry had orders
To stand a bit off aback o' some borders,
Or under the biggest apple-tree.
So there this dooiney-molla'd be,
Very patient, but strainin', strainin'
To hear the coortin,' and lek enough rainin',
Or snowin', or blowin'—
Dear me! what's the odds? No knowin'
The happy Harry was, just to be catchin'
The smallest whisper; like a hen when she's hatchin',
Sittin' that quite; but the little sweep
Is liz'nin' too for some sign of a cheep
At one of the eggs—aw, 'deed she is.
And so this Harry; and if he heard a kiss,
Which of coorse he did, and raisonable,
He'd moan the softest he was able—
Like a flute he'd moan, like a flute! surprisin'!
Semperthisin', semperthisin'.