Page:The moods of Ginger Mick.djvu/33

Jist then a motor car goes glidin' by
  Wiv two fat toffs be'ind two fat cigars.
Mick twigs 'em frum the corner uv 'is eye.
  "I 'ope," 'e sez, "the 'Uns don't git my cars.
Me di'mon's, too, don't let me sleep a wink . . .
Ar, 'Struth! I'd fight fer that sort—I don't think."

'E sits there while I 'arness up me prad,
  Chewin' 'is fag an' starin' at the ground.
I tumbles that 'e's got the joes reel bad,
  An' don't say nothin' till 'e comes around.
'E sez 'is luck's a nark, an' swears some more.
An' then: "Wot is the strength uv this 'ere war?"

I tells 'im wot I read about the 'Uns,
  An' wot they done in Beljum an' in France,
Wiv drivin' Janes an' kids before their guns.
  An' never givin' blokes a stray dawg's chance;
An' 'ow they think they've got the whole world beat.
Sez 'e, "I'll crack the first Dutch cow I meet!"

Mick listens, while I tells 'im 'ow they starts
  Be burnin' pore coves 'omes an' killin' kids,
An' comin' it reel crook wiv decent tarts.
  An' fightin' foul, as orl the rules forbids,
Leavin' a string uv stiff-uns in their track.
Sez Mick, "The dirty cows! They wants a crack!"