Backblock Ballads and Later Verses/The Joy Ride
The Joy Ride
Ah, Gawd! It makes me sick to think Of what I 'eard an' seen:Poor 'Arry like a wet rag flung Across the wrecked machine;An' Rose, 'er face all chiner-white Against the gory green.
Now 'Arry Cox 'e drives a car For Doctor Percy Gray.Sez 'e to me: "On Sund'y nex' The Doc will be away.'Ow is it for a little trip To Fernville for the day?
"I know two bonzer girls," 'e sez; "Fair stunners, both, they are.There's Rose who serves behind the joint In Mudge's privit bar,An' Lena Crump who jerks the pump Down at the Southern Star."
Now, who'd refuse a Sund'y trip With girls an' all give in? The car was there an' oil to spare. To rat would be a sin! An' who'd refuse a drop o' booze When pals is flush o' tin?
Wot all the courts an' papers say Can't add to my distress. . . . Rose, with the blood upon 'er face An' on 'er crumpled dress! An that poor chump who got the bump— Ah, Gawd! 'E was a mess!
The girls 'ad stout at ten mile out, An' we was drinkin' beer. I swear they lies like 'ell who sez That we was on our ear! For we was both, I take me oath, As sober as me here.
Now, Lena was a dashin' piece, 'Igh-spirited an' flash. 'Twas plain enough to me that day That 'Arry'd done 'is dash. An' Rose—(Ah! how 'er eyes did stare) Rose was my speshul mash.
It's easy now fer folks to talk Who might 'ave done the same. We meant no 'arm to anyone, An' 'Arry knew 'is game. 'Twas like a flash, the skid—the crash. An' we was not to blame.
I wisht I could shut out that sight; Fer git that awful row! Poor Rose! 'Er face all chiner-white, Like I can see it now;An' 'Arry like a heap o' clothes Jist chucked there any'ow.
They sez we painted Fernville red; They sez that we was gay; But wot come after dulls me mind To wot them liars say. We never dreamed of death an' 'ell When we set out that day.
'Twas ev'nin' when we turned for 'ome The moon shone full that night; An' for a mile or more ahead The road lay gleamin' white; An' Rose sat close a-side o' me, 'Er face turned to the light.
Wot if we sung a song or two? Wot if they 'eard us shout? Is song an' laughter things to curse An' make a fuss about? "Go faster! faster!" Lena screams. An' 'Arry let 'er out.
I'd give me soul jist to ferget. Gawd! how 'er eyes did stare! 'Er kisses warm upon me lips, I seen 'er lyin' there, Blood on 'er face, all chiner-white, An' on 'er yeller 'air.
I never took no 'eed 'o pace (I've been on twenty trips), An' Rose was restin' in me arms, 'Er cheek against my lips. A precious lot I dreamed of skids, A lot I thought o' slips.
I only know we never thinks— I know we never dreams Of folks out walkin' on that road ; Till, sudden, Lena screams. . . . An', after that, the sights I saw I've seen again in dreams.
We never seen the bloke ahead! 'Ow can they call us rash? I jist seen 'Arry move to shove 'Is arm around 'is mash; I seen 'er jump to grab the wheel, Then, Lord ! . . . there came the smash!
Aw, they can blame an' cry their shame! It ain't for that I care. I held 'er in my arms an' laughed . . . . Then seen 'er lyin' there, The moonlight streamin' on 'er face, An' on 'er yeller hair.