|
To 'ear 'er voice!… A bloke 'ud be a log
'Oo kep' 'is block. Me mind wus in a fog
Uv sorrer for to think 'ow I wus wrong.
Ar, I 'ave been a fair ungrateful 'og!
The feelin' that she put into that song
'Ud melt the 'eart-strings of a chiner dog.
I listens wiv me 'eart up in me throat;
I drunk in ev'ry word an' ev'ry note.
Tears trembles in 'er voice when she tells 'ow
That tart snuffed out becos 'e never wrote.
An' then I seen 'ow I wus like that cow.
Wiv suddin shame me guilty soul wus smote.
Doreen, she never looked my way; but stood
'Arf turned away, an' beefed it out reel good,
Until she sang that bit about the grave;
"Too late 'e learned 'e 'ad misunderstood!"
An' then—Gawstruth ! The pleadin' look she gave
Fair in me face 'ud melt a 'eart 'o wood.
I dunno 'ow I seen that evenin' thro'.
They must 'a' thort I wus 'arf shick, I knoo.
But I 'ad 'urt Doreen wivout no call;
I seen me dooty, wot I 'ad to do.
O, strike! I could 'a' blubbed before 'em all!
But I sat tight, an' never cracked a boo.
| 