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 N'—wilt—yeh—take—this—woman—fer—to—be—
Yer—weddid—wife?"… O, strike me! Will I wot?
Take 'er? Doreen? 'E stan's there arstin' me!
As if 'e thort per'aps I'd rather not!
Take 'er? 'E seemed to think 'er kind wus got
Like cigarette-cards, fer the arstin'. Still,
I does me stunt in this 'ere hitchin' rot,
An' speaks me piece: "Righto!" I sez, "I will."
"I will," I sez. An' tho' a joyful shout
Come from me bustin' 'eart—I know it did—
Me voice got sorter mangled comin' out
An' makes me whisper like a frightened kid.
"I will," I squeaks. An' I'd 'a' give a quid
To 'ad it on the quite, wivout this fuss,
An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid
To see this solim hitchin' up uv us.
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