An' as I looks at Rosie, dreamin' there,
'Er 'ead drops on 'er arms... I seems to wake;
I sees the moonlight streamin' on 'er 'air;
I 'ears 'er sobbin' like 'er 'eart ud break.
An' me there, pryin' on 'er misery.
"Gawstruth!" I sez, "This ain't no place fer me!"
On my tip-toes I sneaks the way I came—
(The crook Chow fiddle ain't done yowlin' yet)—
An' tho' I tells it to me bitter shame—
I'm gittin' soft as 'ell—me eyes wus wet.
An' that stern John, as I go moochin' by
Serloots me wiv a cold, unfeelin' eye.
The fat ole Mother Moon she's got a 'eart.
An' so I like to think, when she looks down
Wiv 'er soft gaze upon some weepin' tart
In bonzer gardens or the slums o' town;
She soothes 'em, mother-like, wiv podgy 'ands,
An' makes 'em dream agen uv peaceful lands.
