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 HE never magged; she never said no word,
But sat an' looked at me an' never stirred.
I could 'a' bluffed it out if she 'ad been
Fair narked, an' let me 'ave it wiv 'er tongue;
But silence told me 'ow 'er 'eart wus wrung.
Poor 'urt Doreen!
Gawstruth! I'd sooner fight wiv fifty men
Than git one look like that frum 'er agen!
She never moved; she never spoke no word;
That 'urt look in 'er eyes, like some scared bird:
"'Ere is the man I loved," it seemed to say.
"'E's mine, this crawlin' thing, an' I'm 'is wife;
Tied up fer good; an' orl me joy in life
Is chucked away!"
If she 'ad bashed me I'd 'a' felt no 'urt!
But 'ere she treats me like—like I was dirt.
'Ow is a man to guard agin that look?
Fer other wimmin, when the'r blokes go crook,
An' lobs 'ome wiv the wages uv a jag,
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