Jim of the Hills | Page 7

was kind an' low. I never
spoke another word exceptin' "Yes" an' "No."
I never felt a bigger chump in all my livin' days,
Well knowin' I was
gettin' worse at every word she says.
An' when she went off with the rest I stood there, lookin' sick. Until I
caught a chance remark of little Dirty Dick.
"What price the widders now?" says he. I answer fierce an' low: "Were
you addressin' me?" I says; an' Dick was prompt with "No!"

I don't know how I finished up; my thoughts were far from clear; For,
in between me an' the bench, that vision would appear.
No other man chucke doff at me, but by their looks 'twas plain I'd lost a
bit of that respect it took a fight to gain.
An', when the knock-off whistle blew, Ben Murray he came by, An'
says he'd like that private talk, but, "Pickle it," says I.
"'Twill have to keep til later on." He answers, "As you like." Soon after
that I saw him talkin' earnest with old Pike.
If I'd been right, 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