The Mockers and other Verses By Jane Barlow |
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 | The Mockers and other Verses |  |
IV
Some misfort'nit poor lad of a sailor it was, lyin' there on the wrack,
Where the waves, drainin' off, left him tossed, and they thinkin', mayhap, to run back
At the tide's turn, and streel him away, like a cat when she's playin' around
Wid a wee little mouse she's half kilt, lettin' on that it's lost and it's found,
Pouncin' after it. But, wirra, the len'th of three days they'd been havin' their game
Wid the crathur adrift through the wild lonesome says from wherever he came.
Where the waves, drainin' off, left him tossed, and they thinkin', mayhap, to run back
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Wid a wee little mouse she's half kilt, lettin' on that it's lost and it's found,
Pouncin' after it. But, wirra, the len'th of three days they'd been havin' their game
Wid the crathur adrift through the wild lonesome says from wherever he came.
Well, Young Dan spied the bit of blue jacket, lapt up in the weed that was spread
Like a net on the rocks; 'twas th' unluckiest sight the two eyes in his head
Ever seen. So they laid him—what else could they do?—in the bows of the boat,
For the last of his farin' by say, and they covered the face wid a coat
From the rays that were reachin' their longest far out of the west, red and low,
O'er the roll of the ridges; and home wid them straightways they settled to row.
And the sorrow a word did the two of them spake any more than the one
That had said all he would: and a cloud riz behind them and put out the sun,
Till the shadows slid after them, runnin' a race wid the moan of the win';
And it's leppin' the say was, and droppin' the darkness before they got in.
Like a net on the rocks; 'twas th' unluckiest sight the two eyes in his head
Ever seen. So they laid him—what else could they do?—in the bows of the boat,
For the last of his farin' by say, and they covered the face wid a coat
From the rays that were reachin' their longest far out of the west, red and low,
O'er the roll of the ridges; and home wid them straightways they settled to row.
And the sorrow a word did the two of them spake any more than the one
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Till the shadows slid after them, runnin' a race wid the moan of the win';
And it's leppin' the say was, and droppin' the darkness before they got in.
| The Mockers and other Verses | |