University of Virginia Library

So that night no wutch; but Nessy like chalk,
And Harry first goin' up the walk;
And—“Wait!” he says to Jack, “just wait!
You see, I've been thinkin' a dale of late,
And I don't know azackly, but still I'm wantin'
To have a understandin' or sonthin' —
A understandin'—that's the tee,
A understandin' is it you, is it me.
I'm not for no more dooiney-mollerin',
I've had enough of humbuggin' and follerin';
And I've raison to think—for I've heard at them
That knows—that Nessy is . . . well . . . ahem . . .
Gettin' rather fond—” “Of you?”
Says Jack; “all right! that'll do! that'll do!”
And darts to the windher, and just a word
To Nessy, that maybe hardly heard
What was it he said, the treih she was,
Poor thing! and turns, and gives a toss
With his head. “Now then,” he says, “now then!
I've said good-night: down glen! down glen!
This must be looked to.” And the fiery he spoke
Poor Harry seen it wasn' no joke,
And had to go. And directly they come
Upon the road—aw, sword and drum!
At it! at it! tongue, not fisses—
Jack's tongue mostly; and “I insisses,”
Says Jack, “you'll 'splain the for and the how,
And what the deuce you're meanin'—now,
Now,” he says, “go on!” But he didn'
Wait for Harry. “Turn up the midden!
Turn it up!” he says; but he turned
The midden up hisself. And he girned,
And he stamped, and he called him all the names
That ever was called. And—Fire and flames!
What was this? And—Was he mad?
Or what was he? Was it a divil he had?
Possessed? was that it? limb from limb!
Nessy gettin' fond of him!
And—Aw, the fool! and aw, the ungrateful!
And—Aw, the donkey! and aw, the decateful!
And—Aw, the horrid! and aw, the hateful!
“Me that was lettin' ye come spoortin'
Under the shadder of my coortin'!
Me that was lettin' ye see the white
She was in the moon! and standin' quite
Near, near! Didn' I let ye?
And feelin' her breath—and didn' I set ye
To spake to her too? and what could ye spake?
And warn't ye hangin' on my neck,
And her face agin mine, and smellin', smellin'
Love's very flower, and hearin' me tellin'
The deepest saycrets of my heart?
And never to stir and never to start,
And never to make the smallest objection,
But delighted, ye said, to see the affection,
And the sweet soft coo there was in, ye said,
It was music fit to wake the dead—
And never tired, and tit for tat,
And purrin' there like a big tom-cat
The satisfied! But now I see!
Is it you? or is it me?
Listen then, if you want to know!
It's me, you thund'rin' lump of dough!
You ideit!” and on like crazy.
But Harry could only get in an “Aisy!”
Now and then—“Aisy!” he'd say,
“Aisy for all!” lek a sort of a way
To be hum'rin' the chap. And hotter and hotter!
Till Harry must ha' been made of botter,
Or porridge or somethin', if he could have bore
The jaw any longer. And at last he swore
He wouldn' stand it, and took and gript
This Jack, that ducked, and dipt, and slipt,
And quivered, and danced; but couldn' hould him:
And Jack made a run for Harry, and bowled him
Over like a cock, and on to him,
And kep' him under, that was aisy done to him,
Bein' heavy, and Jack like a bull pup,
And pinned him, and wouldn' let him up
Till Harry would ax. And then they stood
The two of them out of breath: and the blood
From Harry's nose, lek after an action
Two ships. And “You'll give me satisfaction,”
Says Harry—“eh?” And—the where and the when,
And the how. “At the mouth of the Dragon's den,”
Says Jack; “let's see which'll put the other
Down the ould pit, and finish this bother.
For you know d--- well whichever'll lose
That bout,” says Jack, “he'll have a long snooze
Down there, he will. Now then, d'ye see!
It's death! it's death 'twixt you and me!
Will you try the fall, my bloomin' boss?
Hands on it, Harry!” So it's hands it was.