OUTSIDE O’ THE MAIL INTO MENNEN
Seeing what water he’d had and to spare,
As Willy should have a drop over his share
To balance him, riding to Mennen.
IX
Like little white ghostes, the lonely mile postes
Lagg’d by, and the horses went weary.
So we help’d ’em along wi’ a bit of a song
That we all of us knew, only some knew it wrong,
But still it was wonderful cheery.
An’ just at the end, where the lady says “Yes,”
(An’ Master bent over, bit tender, I guess),
“Ow!” cries Grace Annie, the rain off his hat
Clean down her neck. We did laugh over that!
“But, Gracey, ’tis lucky,” says I in her ear,
“That love can’t be quenchéd wi’ waters, my dear.”
“O, ’tis more weatherproof than my jacket, I fear,”
Says she, “but we’ll soon be in Mennen.”
X
As she spoke, in upon her wet dimples there shone
The light o’ the lamp on the Head;
Like a welcome it beam’d, an’ the sight of it seem’d
To hearten the horses—the sides of ’em steam’d
As on thro’ the weather we sped.
83
