Jim of the Hills | Page 7

I might have known there's somehting in the air By the way the blokes were actin'; but a fat lot did I care.
Swell visions an' the deadly pip was what was wrong with me. I slung a word to my old dog, an' we trudged home to tea.
An' after, in the same old way, we sits beside the fire,?To have a talk, my dog an' me, on fools an' vain desire.
I tell him I'm a silly chump to thnk the things to do.?An', with a waggle of his tail, he says he thinks so too.
I tell him I suppose she's rich, or so she seems to be;?Most likely some reel city swell - an' he don't disagree.
I says to him the chances are I'll not see her no more.?Then he gives me a funny look, an' curls up on the floor.
But I was slow to take the tip, an' went on talkin' rot?About injustice in the world, an' boiled up good an' hot.
I spouts of wrongs of workin' men an' how our rulers fail. His eyes are shut, but he just seconds motions with his tail.
All beauty's only for the rich, all times, an' every way.?The toilers just take what is left, as I've heard Murray say
When he's been talkin' to the boys about the workers' rights, An' spoutin' of equality, down at the huts, of nights.
I turned the social system inside-out for my old dog.?Tho' he don't seem much entertained, but lies there like a log.
I spoke of common people's wrongs - especially of mine;?But when I came to mention love I thought I heard him whine.
But I went on, an' said straight out that, tho' I seemed above Such nonsense once, I'd changed a bit, an' I believed in love.
I said love was a splendid thing! . . . Then, true as I am born, He rose, an' yawned, an' shut me up with one crook glance of scorn.
It's bad enough to be a bloke without one reel close friend; But when your dog gives you the bird it's pretty near the end.
Ashamed, I sneaked away to bunk; an' fell to dreamin' there Of a little brown-eyed vision with the sunlight in her hair.
VI. OLD BOB BLAIR
I got so down to it last night,
With longin' for what could not be,?That nothin' in the world seemed right -
Or everything was wrong with me.?My house was just a lonely hole,?An' I had blisters on my soul.
Top of my other worries now
The boys are talkin' strike, an' say?If we put up a sudden row
We're sure of forcin' up our pay.?I'm right enough with what I get;?But some wants more, an' then more yet.
Ben Murray's put it up to me:
He says I got some influence?Amongst them, if I agree -
"Which I will do if I have sense" -?We'll make the boss cough up a bit.?That's how Ben Murray looks at it.
I don't know that the old boss can.
I've heard he's pushed to make ends meet.?To me he's been a fair, straight man
That pays up well an' works a treat.?But if I don't get in this game,?Well, "blackleg" ain't a pretty name.
This thing has got me thinkin' hard,
But there is worse upon my mind.?What sort of luck has broke my guard
That I should be the man to find?A girl like that? . . . The whole world's wrong!?Why was I born to live and long?
I get so down to it last night
With broodin' over things like this,?I said "There's not a thing in sight
Worth havin' but I seem to miss."?So I go out and get some air?An' have a word with old Bob Blair.
Bob's livin' lonely, same as me;
But he don't take to frettin' so?An' gettin' megrims after tea.
He reads a lot at night, I know;?His hut has books half up the wall?That I don't tumble to at all.
Books all about them ancient blokes
That lived a thousand years ago:?Philosophers an' funny folk
What he sees in them I don't know.?There ain't much fun, when all is said,?In chap that is so awful dead.
He put his book down when I came,
He took his specs off, patient-like.?He's been in Rome; an' who can blame
The old man if he gets the spike?To be jerked back so suddenly?By some glum-lookin' coot like me.
At first he looks at me quite dazed,
As tho' 'twas hard to recognize?The silly fool at which he gazed;
An' then a smile come in his eyes:?"Why, Jim," he says. "Still feelin' blue??Kiss her, an' laugh!" . . . But I says, "Who?"
"Why, who, if not the widow, lad?"
But I says, "Widows ain't no go."?"What woman, then, makes you so sad?"
I coughs a bit an' says, "Dunno."?He looked at me, then old Bob Blair?He ran his fingers through his hair.
"God help us, but the case is bad!
An' men below, an; saints above?Look with mixed feelin's, sour an'