The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke | Page 9

things get 'ome-like; an' we torks till late,
An' tries to tease
Doreen to fix the date,
An' she gits suddin soft and tender-like,
An'
cries a bit, when we parts at the gate.
An' as I'm moochin' 'omeward frum the car
A suddin notion stops me
wiv a jar--
Wot if Doreen, I thinks, should grow to be,
A fat ole
weepin' willer like 'er Mar!
O, 'struth! It won't bear thinkin' of! It's crook!
An' I'm a mean,
unfeelin' dawg to look
At things like that. Doreen's Doreen to me,

The sweetest peach on w'ich a man wus shook.

'Er "pore dear Par"...I s'pose 'e 'ad 'is day,
An' kissed an' smooged an'
loved 'er in 'is way.
An' wed an' took 'is chances like a man--
But,
Gawd, this splicin' racket ain't all play.
Love is a gamble, an' there ain't no certs.
Some day, I s'pose, I'll git
wise to the skirts,
An' learn to take the bitter wiv the sweet...
But,
strike me purple! "Willy!" THAT'S wot 'urts.
IX. Pilot Cove
Young friend," 'e sez...Young friend!
Well, spare me days!
Yeh'd
think I wus 'is own white-'eaded boy--
The queer ole finger, wiv 'is
gentle ways.
"Young friend," 'e sez, "I wish't yeh bofe great joy."

The langwidge that them parson blokes imploy
Fair tickles me. The
way'e bleats an' brays!
"Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez...Yes, my Doreen an' me
We're gettin' hitched,
all straight an' on the square.
Fer when I torks about the registry--
0
'oly wars! yeh should 'a' seen 'er stare;
"The registry?" she sez, "I
wouldn't dare!
I know a clergyman we'll go an' see"...
"Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez. An' then 'e chats me straight;
An' spouts of
death, an' 'ell, an' mortal sins.
"You reckernize this step you
contemplate
Is grave? 'e sez. An' I jist stan's an' grins;
Fer when I
chips, Doreen she kicks me shins.
"Yes, very 'oly is the married state,
Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez. An' then 'e mags a lot
Of jooty an' the
spiritchuil life,
To which I didn't tumble worth a jot.
"I'm sure," 'e
sez, "as you will 'ave a wife
'Oo'll 'ave a noble infl'ince on yer life.

'Oo is 'er gardjin?" I sez, "'Er ole pot"--

"Young friend!" 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez. "Oh fix yer thorts on 'igh!
Orl marridges is
registered up there!
An' you must cleave unto 'er till yeh die,
An'
cherish 'er wiv love an' tender care.
E'n in the days when she's no
longer fair
She's still yer wife," 'e sez. "Ribuck," sez I.
"YOUNG FRIEND!" 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez--I sez, "Now, listen 'ere:
This isn't one o' them
impetchus leaps.
There ain't no tart a 'undreth part so dear
As 'er.
She 'as me 'eart an' soul fer keeps!"
An' then Doreen, she turns away
an' weeps;
But 'e jist smiles. "Yer deep in love, 'tis clear,
Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez--an' tears wus in 'is eyes--
"Strive 'ard. Fer
many, many years I've lived.
An' l kin but recall wiv tears an' sighs

The lives of some I've seen in marridge gived."
"My Gawd!" I sez.
"I'll strive as no bloke strivved!
Fer don't I know I've copped a bonzer
prize?"
"Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez. An' in 'is gentle way,
'E pats the shoulder of
my dear Doreen.
"I've solem'ized grand weddin's in me day,
But
'ere's the sweetest little maid I've seen.
She's fit fer any man, to be 'is
queen;
An' you're more forchinit than you kin say,
Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez...A queer ole pilot bloke,
Wiv silver 'air. The
gentle way 'e dealt
Wiv 'er, the soft an' kindly way 'e spoke
To my
Doreen, 'ud make a statcher melt.
I tell yer, square an' all, I sorter felt

A kiddish kind o' feelin' like I'd choke...

"Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez, "you two on Choosday week,
Is to be joined
in very 'oly bonds.
To break them vows I 'opes yeh'll never seek;

Fer I could curse them 'usbands 'oo absconds!"
"I'll love 'er till I snuff
it," I responds.
"Ah, that's the way I likes to 'ear yeh speak,
Young friend," 'e sez.
"Young friend," 'e sez--an' then me 'and 'e grips
"I wish't yeh luck,
you an' yer lady fair.
Sweet maid." An' sof'ly wiv 'is finger-tips,
'E
takes an' strokes me cliner's shinin' 'air.
An' when I seen 'er standin'
blushin' there,
I turns an' kisses 'er, fair on the lips.
"Young friend!" 'e sez.
X. Hitched
"An'--wilt--yeh--take--this--woman--fer--to--be--

Yer--weddid--wife?"...O, strike me! Will I wot?
TAKE 'er? Doreen?
'E stan's there ARSTIN' me!
As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not!

TAKE 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind was got
Like cigarette-cards,
fer the arstin'. Still,
I does me stunt in this 'ere hitchin' rot,
An'
speaks me piece: "Righto!" I sez, "I will."
"I will," I sez. An' tho' a joyful shout
Come from me bustin' 'eart--I
know it did--
Me voice got sorter mangled comin' out,
An' makes
me whisper like a frightened kid.
"I will," I squeaks. An' I'd 'a' give a
quid
To 'ad it on the quite,