The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown

Brown, T. E. (1830-1897)

I. ASPECTS AND CHARACTERS

II.

II.

III.

III.

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But she kept her word though—curious!
Not the smallest taste of a cuss
Done on Jack, by night or by day;
But she worked the job another way—
'Deed she did though, worked it gran'—
Bless ye! Harry was her man.
Sent for Harry to come and see her,
Which he went, but in ter'ble fear,

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Aw, mortal uncommon! But—“Come in!” she says,
“And a cup of tay; and nice it is
To see a friend,” and all to that —
And Harry lookin' hard at the cat,
And all about, and wondherin'
Where was she keepin' the rum and the gin,
And her dirts and her divilments—in crocks,
Harry was thinkin', or—was it a box?
Or bladders was it? or under her clothes,
Or hid in the floor, or goodness knows!
Up the chimley lek enough,
And'd come to take him by the scruff,
All of a sudden, as black as ink—
The divil—aye—didn' know what to think.
But the place was swept, you know, and clane,
And the taypot singin', and pinjane —
And the kettle you might have seen your face in't,
And everything as dacent as dacent—
Till Harry took heart, and eat like a melya,
Made a very good tay, I tell ye.

So forth.

Curds-and-whey.

Feast at Harvest-home.

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