LITMIR.BIZ

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—“Me gotten a childt to thy landlady—!”

       Tha’s gotten thy answer pat,

      As tha allers hast—but let me tell thee

       Hasna ter sent me whoam, when I

       Was a’most burstin’ mad o’ my-sen

       An’ walkin’ in agony;

      After thy kisses, Lizzie, after

       Tha’s lain right up to me Lizzie, an’ melted

       Into me, melted into me, Lizzie,

       Till I was verily swelted.

      An’ if my landlady seed me like it,

       An’ if ’er clawkin’, tiger’s eyes

       Went through me just as the light went out

       Is it any cause for surprise?

      No cause for surprise at all, my lad,

       After lickin’ and snuffin’ at me, tha could

       Turn thy mouth on a woman like her—

       Did ter find her good?

      Ay, I did, but afterwards

       I should like to ha’ killed her!

       —Afterwards!—an’ after how long

       Wor it tha’d liked to ’a killed her?

      Say no more, Liz, dunna thee,

       I might lose my-sen.

       —I’ll only say good-bye to thee, Timothy,

       An’ gi’e her thee back again.

      I’ll ta’e thy word ‘Good-bye,’ Liz,

       But I shonna marry her,

       I shonna for nobody.—It is

       Very nice on you, Sir.

      The childt maun ta’e its luck, it maun,

       An’ she maun ta’e her luck, For I tell ye I shonna marry her— What her’s got, her took.

      That’s spoken like a man, Timmy,

       That’s spoken like a man ...

       “He up an’ fired off his pistol

       An’ then away he ran.”

      I damn well shanna marry ’er,

       So chew at it no more,

       Or I’ll chuck the flamin’ lot of you—

       —You nedn’t have swore.

      VII

      That’s his collar round the candle-stick

       An’ that’s the dark blue tie I bought ’im,

       An’ these is the woman’s kids he’s so fond on,

       An’ ’ere comes the cat that caught ’im.

      I dunno where his eyes was—a gret

       Round-shouldered hag! My sirs, to think

       Of him stoopin’ to her! You’d wonder he could

       Throw hisself in that sink.

      I expect you know who I am, Mrs Naylor!

       —Who yer are?—yis, you’re Lizzie Stainwright.

       ’An ’appen you might guess what I’ve come for?

       —’Appen I mightn’t, ’appen I might.

      You knowed as I was courtin’ Tim Merfin.

       —Yis, I knowed ’e wor courtin’ thee.

       An’ yet you’ve been carryin’ on wi’ him.

       —Ay, an’ ’im wi’ me.

      Well, now you’ve got to pay for it,

       —An’ if I han, what’s that to thee?

       For ’e isn’t goin’ to marry you.

       —Is it a toss-up ’twixt thee an’ me?

      It’s no toss-up ’twixt thee an’ me.

       —Then what art colleyfoglin’ for?

       I’m not havin’ your orts an’ slarts.

       —Which on us said you wor?

      I want you to know ’e’s non marryin’ you. —Tha wants ’im thy-sen too bad. Though I’ll see as ’e pays you, an’ comes to the scratch. —Tha’rt for doin’ a lot wi’ th’ lad.

      VIII

      To think I should ha’e to haffle an’ caffle

       Wi’ a woman, an’ pay ’er a price

       For lettin’ me marry the lad as I thought

       To marry wi’ cabs an’ rice.

      But we’ll go unbeknown to the registrar,

       An’ give ’er what money there is, For I won’t be beholden to such as her For anythink of his.

      IX

      Take off thy duty stripes, Tim,

       An’ come wi’ me in here,

       Ta’e off thy p’lice-man’s helmet

       An’ look me clear.

      I wish tha hadna done it, Tim,

       I do, an’ that I do!

       For whenever I look thee i’ th’ face, I s’ll see

       Her face too.

      I wish tha could wesh ’er off’n thee,

       For I used to think that thy

       Face was the finest thing that iver

       Met my eye....

      X

      Twenty pound o’ thy own tha hast, and fifty pound ha’e I,

       Thine shall go to pay the woman, an’ wi’ my bit we’ll buy

       All as we shall want for furniture when tha leaves this place,

       An’ we’ll be married at th’ registrar—now lift thy face.

      Lift thy face an’ look at me, man, up an’ look at me:

       Sorry I am for this business, an’ sorry if I ha’e driven thee

       To such a thing: but it’s a poor tale, that I’m bound to say,

       Before I can ta’e thee I’ve got a widow of forty-five to pay.

      Dunnat thee think but what I love thee—I love thee well,

       But ’deed an’ I wish as this tale o’ thine wor niver my tale to tell;

       Deed an’ I wish as I could stood at the altar wi’ thee an’ been proud o’ thee,

       That I could ha’ been first woman to thee, as thou’rt first man to me.

      But we maun ma’e the best on’t—I’ll rear thy childt if ’er’ll yield it to me,

       An’ then wi’ that twenty pound we gi’e ’er I s’d think ’er wunna be

       So very much worser off than ’er wor before—An’ now look up

       An’ answer me—for I’ve said my say, an’ there’s no more sorrow to sup.

      Yi, tha’rt a man, tha’rt a fine big man, but niver a baby had eyes

       As sulky an’ ormin’ as thine. Hast owt to say otherwise

       From what I’ve arranged wi’ thee?

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