The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | ||
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.
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,
567
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.
The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | ||