The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke by C.J. Dennis

Author:C.J. Dennis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction classics, Australian poetry
ISBN: 9781922148032
Publisher: The Text Publishing Company
Published: 2012-10-23T04:00:00+00:00

X . HITCHED

“An'—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 was 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 of us.

“Fer—rich-er—er—fer—por-er.” So 'e bleats.

“In—sick-ness—an'—in—ealth,”…An' there I stands,

An' dunno 'arf the chatter I repeats,

Nor wot the 'ell to do wiv my two 'ands.

But 'e don't 'urry puttin' on our brands—

This white-'aired pilot-bloke—but gives it lip,

Dressed in 'is little shirt, wiv frills an' bands.

“In sick-ness—an'—in—” Ar! I got the pip!

An' once I missed me turn; an' Ginger Mick,

'Oo's my best-man, 'e ups an' beefs it out.

“I will!” 'e 'owls; an' fetches me a kick.

“Your turn to chin!” 'e tips wiv a shout.

An' there I'm standin' like a gawky lout.

(Aw, spare me! But I seemed to be all 'ands!)

An' wonders wot 'e's goin' crook about,

Wiv 'arf a mind to crack 'im where 'e stands.

O, lumme! But ole Ginger was a trick!

Got up regardless fer the solim rite.

('E 'awks the bunnies when 'e toils, does Mick)

An' twice I saw 'im feelin' fer a light

To start a fag; an' trembles lest 'e might,

Thro' force o' habit like. 'E's nervis too;

That's plain, fer orl 'is air o' bluff an' skite;

An' jist as keen as me to see it thro'.

But, 'struth, the wimmin! 'Ow they love this frill!

Fer Auntie Liz, an' Mar, o' course, wus there;

An' Mar's two uncles' wives, an' Cousin Lil,

An' 'arf a dozen more to grin and stare.

I couldn't make me 'ands fit anywhere!

I felt like I wus up afore the Beak!

But my Doreen she never turns a 'air,

Nor misses once when it's 'er turn to speak.

Ar, strike! No more swell marridges fer me!

It seems a blinded year afore 'e's done.

We could 'a' fixed it in the registree

Twice over 'fore this cove 'ad 'arf begun.

I s'pose the wimmin git some sorter fun

Wiv all this guyver, an' 'is nibs's shirt.

But, seems to me, it takes the bloomin' bun,

This stylish splicin' uv a bloke an' skirt.

“To—be—yer—weddid—wife—” Aw, take a pull!

Wot in the 'ell's 'e think I come there for?

An' so 'e drawls an' drones until I'm full,

An' wants to do a duck clean out the door.

An' yet, fer orl 'is 'igh-falutin' jor,

Ole Snowy wus a reel good-meanin' bloke.

If 'twasn't fer the 'oly look 'e wore

Yeh'd think 'e piled it on jist fer a joke.

An', when at last 'e shuts 'is little book,

I 'eaves a sigh that nearly bust me vest.

But 'Eavens! Now 'ere's muvver goin' crook!

An' sobbin' awful on me manly chest!

(I wish she'd give them water-works a rest.)

“My little girl!” she 'owls. “O, treat

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