Pay-Day
Dere’s a little anxious crowd
Jes’ outside de barrack gate,
All a-t’inkin’ deir own way
Dat de pay is kept back late:
Faces of all types an’ shades,
Brown an’ yaller, black an’ gray,
Dey are waitin’, waitin’ dere,
For it’s póliceman pay-day.
Clearly seen among dem all
Is a colourless white face
Anxious more dan every one,
Fine type of an alien race:
He is waitin’ for some cash
On de goods trust’ tarra day,—
Our good frien’ de Syrian,—
For it’s policeman pay-day.
Wid a lee piece of old clot’
’Pon her curly glossy hair,
Print frock an’ old bulldog boots
Tatters all t’rough wear an’ tear,
She is waitin’, ober-bex’,
Our mess-woman, mudder Mell,
An’ ’twould grieve you’ heart to hear
’Bouten wha’ she’s got to tell.
52
