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I wus too weak wiv funk to start an' rouse.
'Struth! Ain't a man the boss in 'is own 'ouse?
"You go an' chase yerself!" she tips me straight.
"Ther's nothin' now fer you to do but—wait."
Wait?… Gawd!… I never knoo wot waitin' meant
In all me life, till that day I was sent
To loaf around, while there inside—Aw, strike!
I couldn't tell yeh wot that hour was like!
Three times I comes to listen at the door;
Three times I drag meself away once more;
'Arf dead wiv fear; 'arf filled wiv tremblin' joy…
An' then she beckons me, an' sez—"A boy!"
"A boy!" she sez. "An' bofe is doin' well!"
I drops into a chair, an' jist sez—"'Ell!"
It was a pray'r. I feels bofe crook an' glad…
An' that's the strength uv bein' made a dad.
I thinks uv church, when in that room I goes,
'Oldin' me breaf an' walkin' on me toes,
Fer 'arf a mo' I feared me nerve 'ud fail
To see 'er lying there so still an' pale.
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