University of Virginia Library

Aw, at them I lep',
At them! on them! “Divils! divils!
What's this? what's this?” But they turned like swivels,
And the bank was givin' way, and the muck
Rattlin' down, the way its shook
On a coffin at a funeral—
And the two of them twisted like a ball—
Couldn' get them out of grips,
Couldn'—and Jack to stagger, and slips,
And Harry swings him out right over
The mouth of the pit, and could hardly recover
Hisself; but held on—aw, didn' let go!
Wouldn' ha' done it—no, no, no!
Couldn', for the matter of that;
For Jack was stuck to him like a rat
To a terrier's nose. So I seen my chance,
And I gript this Harry—“Now then, once—
Twice—three times!” I said, and these rips
Come in on the grass, but still in grips.
And I couldn' have done it, but Harry helped,
And glad enough. Aw, navar was whelped,
A good-natureder chap! But done they were,
Done complate, aw, done I'll swear—
Not the half of a breath in the two of them.
So the moon come up, and I took a view of them—
“Well you're a pair of beauties!” I says;
“Come! drop these grips! I tell ye you'd best!”
But they couldn', no! they could only lie
In each other's arms.