Nex' day Mar Flood she takes 'er Sund'y dress
An' 'er best little bonnet up to town.
'Er game's to see the girl at this address
An' sprag 'er in regard to comin' down
To take Smith be su'prise. My part's to fix
A meetin' so there won't be any mix.
I tips, some'ow, that girl won't 'esitate.
She don't. She comes right back with Mar nex' day,
All uv a fluster. When I seen 'er state
I thinks I'd best see Digger straight away;
'Cos, if I don't, 'e's bound to 'ear the row,
With 'er: "Where is 'e? Can't I see 'im now?"
I finds 'im in the paddick down at Flood's.
I 'ums an' 'ars a bit about the crops.
'E don't say nothin': goes on baggin' spuds.
"'Ow would yeh like," I sez to 'im, an' stops.
"'Ow would it be" . . . 'E stands an' looks at me:
"Now, wot the 'Ell's got into you?" sez 'e.
That don't restore me confidence a bit.
The drarmer isn't goin' as I tipped.
I corfs, an' makes another shot at it;
While 'e looks at me like 'e thinks I'm dipped.
"Well—jist suppose," I sez; an' then I turn
An' see 'er standin' there among the fern.
