The Moods of Ginger Mick | Page 3

Foo's chiner found it's mark.?Fer more than Mick 'ad ancient scores left over frum ole rows,
An' more than one stopped somethin' in the dark.?Then the tabbies took to screamin', an' a Chow remarked "Wha' for?" While the live ducks quacked blue murder frum their corner uv the floor.
Fer full ten minutes it was joy, reel willin' an' to spare,
Wiv noise uv tarts, an' Chows, an' ducks, an' lash;?An' plates uv fowl an' bird's-nest soup went whizzin' thro' the air,
While 'arf-a-dozen fought to reach Foo's cash.?Then, thro' an open doorway, three Chows' 'eads is framed in light, An' sudden in Mick's corner orl is gentle peace an' quite.
Up goes the lights; in comes the cops; an' there's a sudden rush;
But the Johns 'as got 'em safe an' 'emmed 'em in;?An' ev'ryone looks innercent. Then thro' the anxious 'ush
The toffs voice frum the floor calls fer a gin ...?But Mick an' Rose, 0 where are they? Arst uv the silent night! They 'ad a date about a dawg, an' vanished out o' sight.
Then Foo an' orl 'is cousins an' the ducks torks ori at once,
An' the tabbies pitch the weary johns a tale,?'Ow they orl is puffick ladies 'oo 'ave not bin pinched fer munce;
An' the crooks does mental sums concernin' bail.?The cops they takes a name er two, then gathers in the toff, An' lobs 'im in a cold, 'ard cell to sleep 'is love-quest off.
But down in Rosie's kipsie, at the end uv Spadger's Lane,
'Er an' Mick is layin' supper out fer two.?"Now, I 'ate the game," sez Ginger, "an' it goes agin the grain;
But wot's a 'elpless, 'ungry bloke to do?"?An' 'e yanks a cold roast chicken frum the bosom uv 'is shirt, An' Rosie finds a ducklin' underneath 'er Sund'y skirt.
So, when a bloke fergits 'imself, an' soils a lady's name,
Altho' Romance is dead an' in the dirt,?In ole Madrid or Little Bourke they treats 'im much the same,
An' 'e collects wot's comin' fer a cert.?But, spite uv 'igh-falutin' tork, the fact is jist the same: Ole Ginger Mick wus out fer loot, an' played a risky game.
To fight an' forage ... Spare me days! It's been man's leadin' soot
Since 'e learned to word a tart an' make a date.?'E's been at it, good an' solid, since ole Adam bit the froot:
To fight an' forage, an' pertect 'is mate.?But this story 'as no moral, an' it 'as a vulgar plot;?It is jist a small igzample uv a way ole Ginger's got.
II. WAR
'E sez to me, "Wot's orl this flamin' war?
The papers torks uv nothin' else but scraps.?An'wot's ole England got snake-'eaded for?
An' wot's the strength uv callin' out our chaps?"?'E sez to me, "Struth! Don't she rule the sea??Wot does she want wiv us?" 'e sez to me.
Ole Ginger Mick is loadin' up 'is truck
One mornin' in the markit feelin' sore.?'E sez to me, "Well, mate, I've done me luck;
An' Rose is arstin', 'Wot about this war?'?I'm gone a tenner at the two-up school;?The game is crook, an' Rose is turnin' cool.
'E sez to me, "'Ow is it fer a beer?"
I tips 'im 'ow I've told me wife, Doreen,?That when I comes down to the markit 'ere
I dodges pubs, an' chucks the tipple, clean.?Wiv 'er an' kid alone up on the farm?She's full uv fancies that I'll come to 'arm.
"'Enpecked!" 'e sez. An' then, "Ar, I dunno.
I wouldn't mind if I wus in yer place.?I've 'arf a mind to give cold tea a go -
It's no game, pourin' snake-juice in yer face.?But, lad, I 'ave to, wiv the thirst I got.?I'm goin' over now to stop a pot."
'E goes acrost to find a pint a 'ome;
An' meets a pal an' keeps another down.?Ten minutes later, when 'e starts to roam
Back to the markit, wiv an ugly frown,?'E spags a soljer bloke 'oo's passin' by,?An' sez 'e'd like to dot 'im in the eye.
"Your sort," sez Mick, "don't know yer silly mind!
They lead yeh like a sheep; it's time yeh woke -?The 'eads is makin' piles out uv your kind!"
"Aw, git yer 'ead read!" sez the soljer bloke.?'Struth! 'e wus willin' wus that Kharki' chap;?I 'ad me work cut out to stop a scrap.
An 'as the soljer fades acrost the street,
Mick strikes a light an' sits down on 'is truck,?An' chews 'is fag - a sign 'is nerve is beat -
An' swears a bit, an' sez 'e's done is luck.?'E grouches there ten minutes, maybe more,?Then sez quite sudden, "Blarst the flamin'war!"
Jist then a motor car goes glidin' by
Wiv two fat toffs be'ind two fat cigars;?Mick twigs 'em frum the corner uv 'is eye -
"I 'ope," 'e sez, "the 'Uns don't git my cars.?Me di'mons, too, don't let me sleep a wink ...?Ar, 'Struth! I'd fight fer that sort - I don't think."
'E sits there while I 'arness up