You bet that ends it; so I joins the fun,
An' puts 'em all at ease with silly grins—
Slings bits uv repartee like "'Ave a bun."
An' passes bread an' butter, for me sins.
Since I've been marri'd, say, I've chucked some things,
An' learned a whole lot more to fill the space.
I've slung all slang; crook words 'ave taken wings,
An' I 'ave learned to entertain with grace.
But when ole Missus Flood comes round our place
I don't object to 'er, for all 'er sighs;
Becos I likes 'er ways, I likes 'er face,
An', most uv all, she 'as them mother's eyes.
"Before the war," she sighs, the poor ole girl.
'Er talk it gets me thinkin' in between,
While I'm assistin' at this social whirl. . . .
She comes across for comfort to Doreen,
To talk about the things that might 'ave been
If Syd 'ad not been killed at Suvla Bay.
Or Jim not done a bunk at seventeen.
An' not been 'eard uv since 'e went away.
They 'ave a little farm right next to us—
'Er an' 'er 'usband—where they live alone.
Spite uv 'er cares, she ain't the sort to fuss
Or serve up sudden tears an' sob an' moan,
