The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, Clarence James Dennis [best 7 inch ereader txt] 📗

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' I 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, wivout this fuss,
An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid
To see this solim hitchin' up of us.

"Fer--rich-er--er--fer--por-er." So 'e bleats.
"In--sick-ness--an'--in-ealth,"...An' there I stands,
An' dunno'arf the chatter I repeats,
Nor wot the 'ell to do wiv my two 'ands.
But 'e don't 'urry puttin' on our brands--
This white-'aired pilot-bloke--but gives it lip,
Dressed in 'is little shirt, wiv frills an' bands.
"In sick-ness--an'--in--" Ar! I got the pip!
An' once I missed me turn; an' Ginger Mick,
'Oo's my best-man, 'e ups an' beefs it out.
"I will!" 'e 'owls; an' fetches me a kick.
"Your turn to chin!" 'e tips wiv a shout.
An' there I'm standin' like a gawky lout.
(Aw, spare me! But I seemed to be ALL 'ands!)
An' wonders wot 'e's goin' crook about,
Wiv 'arf a mind to crack 'im where 'e stands.

O, lumme! But ole Ginger was a trick!
Got up regardless fer the solim rite.
('E 'awks the bunnies when 'e toils, does Mick)
An' twice I saw 'im feelin' fer a light
To start a fag; an' trembles lest'e might,
Thro' force o' habit like. 'E's nervis too;
That's plain, fer orl 'is air o' bluff an' skite;
An' jist as keen as me to see it thro'.

But, 'struth, the wimmin! 'Ow they love this frill!
Fer Auntie Liz, an' Mar, o' course, wus there;
An' Mar's two uncles' wives, an' Cousin Lil,
An' 'arf a dozen more to grin and stare.
I couldn't make me 'ands fit anywhere!
I felt like I wus up afore the Beak!
But my Doreen she never turns a 'air,
Nor misses once when it's 'er turn to speak.

Ar, strike! No more swell marridges fer me!
It seems a blinded year afore 'e's done.
We could 'a' fixed it in the registree
Twice over 'fore this cove 'ad 'arf begun.
I s'pose the wimmin git some sorter fun
Wiv all this guyver, an' 'is nibs's shirt.
But, seems to me, it takes the bloomin' bun,
This stylish splicin' uv a bloke an' skirt.

"To--be--yer--weddid--wife--" Aw, take a pull!
Wot in the 'ell's 'e think I come there for?
An' so 'e drawls an' drones until I'm full,
An' wants to do a duck clean out the door.
An' yet, fer orl 'is 'igh-falutin' jor,
Ole Snowy wus a reel good-meanin' bloke.
If 'twasn't fer the 'oly look 'e wore
Yeh'd think 'e piled it on jist fer a joke.

An', when at last 'e shuts 'is little book,
I 'eaves a sigh that nearly bust me vest.
But 'Eavens! Now 'ere's muvver goin' crook!
An' sobbin' awful on me manly chest!
(I wish she'd give them water-works a rest.)
"My little girl!" she 'owls. "O, treat'er well!
She's young--too young to leave 'er muvver's nest!"
"Orright, ole chook," I nearly sez. Oh, 'ell!

An' then we 'as a beano up at Mar's--
A slap-up feed, wiv wine an' two big geese.
Doreen sits next ter me, 'er eyes like stars.
O, 'ow I wished their blessed yap would cease!
The Parson-bloke 'e speaks a little piece,
That makes me blush an' 'ang me silly 'ead.
'E sez 'e 'opes our lovin' will increase--
I LIKES that pilot fer the things 'e said.

'E sez Doreen an' me is in a boat,
An' sailin' on the matrimonial sea.
'E sez as 'ow 'e 'opes we'll allus float
In peace an' joy, from storm an' danger free.
Then muvver gits to weepin' in 'er tea;
An' Auntie Liz sobs like a winded colt;
An' Cousin Lil comes 'round an' kisses me;
Until I feel I'll 'AVE to do a bolt.

Then Ginger gits end-up an' makes a speech--
('E'd 'ad a couple, but 'e wasn't shick.)
"My cobber 'ere," 'e sez, "'as copped a peach!
Of orl the barrer-load she is the pick!
I 'opes 'e won't fergit 'is pals too quick
As wus 'is frien's in olden days, becors,
I'm trustin', later on," sez Ginger Mick,
"To celebrate the chris'nin'."...'Oly wars!

At last Doreen an' me we gits away,
An' leaves 'em doin' nothin' to the scran.
(We're honey-moonin' down beside the Bay.)
I gives a 'arf a dollar to the man
Wot drives the cab; an' like two kids we ran
To ketch the train--Ah, strike! I could 'a' flown!
We gets the carridge right agen the van.
She whistles, jolts, an' starts...An' we're alone!

Doreen an' me! My precious bit o' fluff!
Me own true weddid wife!...An' we're alone!
She seems so frail, an' me so big an' rough--
I dunno wot this feelin' is that's grown
Inside me 'ere that makes me feel I own
A thing so tender like I fear to squeeze
Too 'ard fer fear she'll break...Then, wiv a groan
I starts to 'ear a coot call, "Tickets, please!"

You could 'a' outed me right on the spot!
I