 | I. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| III. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
Misthriss Banks! Misthriss Banks!
Aw, a big long woman, thin in the flanks,
That, when she was up to these divil's pranks,
It had ha' took Ould Harry himself to hould her—
High in the hips, and high in the shoulder—
Yes, and I was tellin' just now
The stunnin' she looked, and the when and the how,
And round the Cape, and past Bigode,
And cock her up! and clear the road!
And in on the fair—The Hills? eh, what?
Sartinly! the ould spot.
And rings and rings, and silk and satin,
Aw, as grand as grand! and goin' a traitin'
At the lads, of coorse. But the evenin'
Was another pair of oars, my men.
Screwed? is it screwed? dead drunk, if ye plaze,
Like a bustin' tar-barrel all in a blaze
Of cussin' and blastin', and laughin' and cryin'
And singin'—aw, if you'd only ha' heard her!
And a splash and a mash, and kickin' and lyin'
In a surt of a midden of muck and murder!
Foamin', frothin', splitter-splutter,
Like fits, like possessed—aw, roult in the gutter;
Somethin' lek it's put in the Acts—
I don't azackly remember the facts,
But a woman that shouted, and lek enough whopt to't
At the scamps that kep' her; but Paul put a stop to't.
Aw, a big long woman, thin in the flanks,
That, when she was up to these divil's pranks,
It had ha' took Ould Harry himself to hould her—
High in the hips, and high in the shoulder—
Yes, and I was tellin' just now
The stunnin' she looked, and the when and the how,
And round the Cape, and past Bigode,
552
And in on the fair—The Hills? eh, what?
Sartinly! the ould spot.
And rings and rings, and silk and satin,
Aw, as grand as grand! and goin' a traitin'
At the lads, of coorse. But the evenin'
Was another pair of oars, my men.
Screwed? is it screwed? dead drunk, if ye plaze,
Like a bustin' tar-barrel all in a blaze
Of cussin' and blastin', and laughin' and cryin'
And singin'—aw, if you'd only ha' heard her!
And a splash and a mash, and kickin' and lyin'
In a surt of a midden of muck and murder!
Foamin', frothin', splitter-splutter,
Like fits, like possessed—aw, roult in the gutter;
Somethin' lek it's put in the Acts—
I don't azackly remember the facts,
But a woman that shouted, and lek enough whopt to't
At the scamps that kep' her; but Paul put a stop to't.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |