The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke | Page 6

pressed close to mine,?Me lonely life seemed robbed of all its care;?I dreams me dreams, an' 'ope begun to shine.?An' when she 'eld 'er lips fer me to kiss...?Ar, wot's the use? I'm done wiv all o' this!
Wimmin!...Oh, I ain't jealous! Spare me days!?Me? Jealous uv a knock-kneed coot like that!?'Im! Wiv 'is cute stror 'at an' pretty ways!?I'd be a mug to squeal or whip the cat.?I'm glad, I am--glad 'cos I know I'm free!?There ain't no call to tork o' jealousy.
I tells meself I'm well out o' the game;?Fer look, I mighter married 'er-an' then....?Ar strike! 'Er voice wus music when my name?Wus on 'er lips on them glad ev'nin's when?We useter meet. An' then to think she'd go...?No, I ain't jealous--but--Ar, I dunno!
I took a derry on this stror 'at coot?First time I seen 'im dodgin' round Doreen.?'Im, wiv 'is giddy tie an' Yankee soot,?Ferever yappin' like a tork-machine?About "The Hoffis" where 'e 'ad a grip....?The way 'e smiled at 'er give me the pip!
She sez I stoushed 'im, when I promised fair?To chuck it, even to a friendly spar.?Stoushed 'im! I never roughed 'is pretty 'air!?I only spanked 'im gentle, fer 'is mar.?If I'd 'a' jabbed 'im once, there would 'a' been?An inquest; an' I sez so to Doreen.
I mighter took an' cracked 'im in the street,?When she was wiv 'im there lars' Fridee night.?But don't I keep me temper when we met??An' don't I raise me lid an' act perlite??I only jerks me elbow in 'is ribs,?To give the gentle office to 'is nibs.
Stoushed 'im! I owns I met 'im on the quiet,?An' worded 'im about a small affair;?An' when 'e won't put up 'is 'ands to fight--?('E sez, "Fer public brawls 'e didn't care")--?I lays 'im 'cross me knee, the mother's joy,?An' smacks 'im 'earty, like a naughty boy.
An' now Doreen she sez I've broke me vow,?An' mags about this coot's pore, "wounded pride."?An' then, o' course, we 'as a ding-dong row,?Wiv 'ot an' stormy words on either side.?She sez I done it outer jealousy,?An' so, we parts fer ever--'er an' me.
Me jealous? Jealous of that cross-eyed cow!?I set 'im 'cos I couldn't sight 'is face.?'Is yappin' fair got on me nerves, some'ow.?I couldn't stand 'im 'angin' round 'er place.?A coot like that!...But it don't matter much,?She's welkim to 'im if she fancies such.
I swear I'll never track wiv 'er no more;?I'll never look on 'er side o' the street--?Unless she comes an' begs me pardin for?Them things she said to me in angry 'eat.?She can't ixpeck fer me to smooge an' crawl.?I ain't at ANY woman's beck an' call.
Wimmin! I've took a tumble to their game.?I've got the 'ole bang tribe o' cliners set!?The 'ole world over they are all the same:?Crook to the core the bunch of 'em--an' yet?We could 'a' been that 'appy, 'er an' me...?But, wot's it matter? Ain't I glad I'm free?
A bloke wiv commin-sense 'as got to own?There's little 'appiness in married life.?The smoogin' game is better left alone,?Fer tarts is few that makes the ideel wife.?An' them's the sort that loves wivout disguise,?An' thinks the sun shines in their 'usban's' eyes.
But when the birds is matin' in the spring,?An' when the tender leaves begin to bud,?A feelin' comes--a dilly sorter thing?That seems to sorter swamp 'im like a flood.?An' when the fever 'ere inside 'im burns,?Then freedom ain't the thing fer wot 'e yearns.
But I 'ave chucked it all. An' yet--I own?I dreams me dreams when soft Spring breezes stirs;?An' often, when I'm moonin' 'ere alone,?A lispin' maid, wiv 'air an' eyes like 'ers,?'Oo calls me "dad," she climbs upon me knee,?An' yaps 'er pretty baby tork to me.
I sorter see a little 'ouse, it seems,?Wiv someone waitin' for me at the gate...?Ar, where's the sense in dreamin' barmy dreams,?I've dreamed before, and nearly woke too late.?Sich 'appiness could never last fer long,?We're strangers--'less she owns that she was wrong.
To call 'er back I'll never lift a 'and;?She'll never 'ear frum me by word or sign.?Per'aps, some day, she'll come to understand?The mess she's made o' this 'ere life o' mine.?Oh, I ain't much to look at, I admit.?But'im! The knock-kneed, swivel-eyed misfit?...
VII. The Siren
She sung a song; an' I sat silent there,?Wiv bofe 'ands grippin' 'ard on me chair;?Me 'eart, that yesterdee I thort wus broke?Wiv 'umpin sich a 'eavy load o' care,?Come swelling in me throat like I would choke.?I felt 'ot blushes climbin' to me 'air.
'Twas like that feelin' when the Spring wind breaves?Sad music in the sof'ly rustlin' leaves.?An' when a bloke sits down an' starts to chew?Crook thorts, wivout quite knowin' why 'e grieves?Fer things 'e's done 'e didn't ort to do--?Fair winded wiv the 'eavy sighs 'e 'eaves.
She sung a song; an' orl at once I seen?The kind o' crool an'