The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Everlasting MercyThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Everlasting MercyCreator: John MasefieldRelease date: November 23, 2012 [eBook #41467]Most recently updated: March 23, 2014Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MERCY ***[image]CoverTHE EVERLASTING MERCYBYJOHN MASEFIELDAUTHOR OF"THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT""THE TRAGEDY OF NAN," ETC.LONDONSIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHIMCMXIIIFirst Edition, Crown 8vo, November 1911;Reprinted November and December 1911,February, April and August 1912.Reset December 1912; reprinted January(twice), February, March and May, 1913.New Edition, Foolscap 8vo, thirteenththousand, October 1913.Fourteenth thousand, November 1913.Entered at the Library ofCongress, Washington, U.S.A.All rights reservedBY THE SAME AUTHORTHE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREETCrown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.Fourth ThousandTHE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREATCrown 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. net;Paper Wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.Fourth ImpressionLondon: SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.TOMY WIFEThy place is biggyd above the sterrys deer,Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.JOHN LYDGATE.THE EVERLASTING MERCYFrom '41 to '51I was my folk's contrary son;I bit my father's hand right throughAnd broke my mother's heart in two.I sometimes go without my dinnerNow that I know the times I've gi'n her.From '51 to '6lI cut my teeth and took to fun.I learned what not to be afraid ofAnd what stuff women's lips are made of;I learned with what a rosy feelingGood ale makes floors seem like the ceiling,And how the moon gives shiny lightTo lads as roll home singing by't.My blood did leap, my flesh did revel,Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.From '61 to '67I lived in disbelief of heaven.I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored,I did despite unto the Lord,I cursed, 'twould make a man look pale,And nineteen times I went to jail.Now, friends, observe and look upon me,Mark how the Lord took pity on me.By Dead Man's Thorn, while setting wires,Who should come up but Billy Myers,A friend of mine, who used to beAs black a sprig of hell as me,With whom I'd planned, to save encroachin',Which fields and coverts each should poach in.Now when he saw me set my snare,He tells me 'Get to hell from there.This field is mine,' he says, 'by right;If you poach here, there'll be a fight.Out now,' he says, 'and leave your wire;It's mine.''It ain't.''You put.''You liar.''You closhy put.''You bloody liar.''This is my field.''This is my wire.''I'm ruler here.''You ain't.''I am.''I'll fight you for it.''Right, by damn.Not now, though, I've a-sprained my thumb,We'll fight after the harvest hum.And Silas Jones, that bookie wide,Will make a purse five pounds a side.'Those were the words, that was the placeBy which God brought me into grace.On Wood Top Field the peewits goMewing and wheeling ever so;And like the shaking of a timbrelCackles the laughter of the whimbrel.In the old quarry-pit they sayHead-keeper Pike was made away.He walks, head-keeper Pike, for harm,He taps the windows of the farm;The blood drips from his broken chin,He taps and begs to be let in.On Wood Top, nights, I've shaked to harkThe peewits wambling in the darkLest in the dark the old man mightCreep up to me to beg a light.But Wood Top grass is short and sweetAnd springy to a boxer's feet;At harvest hum the moon so brightDid shine on Wood Top for the fight.When Bill was stripped down to his bendsI thought how long we two'd been friends,And in my mind, about that wire,I thought 'He's right, I am a liar,As sure as skilly's made in prisonThe right to poach that copse is his'n.I'll have no luck to-night,' thinks I.'I'm fighting to defend a lie.And this moonshiny evening's funIs worse than aught I ever done.'And thinking that way my heart bled soI almost stept to Bill and said so.And now Bill's dead I would be gladIf I could only think I had.But no. I put the thought awayFor fear of what my friends would say.They'd backed me, see? O Lord, the sinDone for the things there's money in.The stakes were drove, the ropes were hitched,Into the ring my hat I pitched.My corner faced the Squire's parkJust where the fir-trees make it dark;The place where I begun poor NellUpon the woman's road to hell.I thought oft, sitting in my cornerAfter the time-keep struck his warner(Two brandy flasks, for fear of noise,Clinked out the time to us two boys).And while my seconds chafed and gloved meI thought of Nell's eyes when she loved me,And wondered how my tot would end,First Nell cast off and now my friend;And in the moonlight dim and wanI knew quite well my luck was gone;And looking round I felt a spiteAt all who'd come to see me fight;The five and forty human facesInflamed by drink and going to races,Faces of men who'd never beenMerry or true or live or clean;Who'd never felt the boxer's trimOf brain divinely knit to limb,Nor felt the whole live body goOne tingling health from top to toe;Nor took a punch nor given a swing,But just soaked deady round the ringUntil their brains and bloods were foulEnough to make their throttles howl,While we whom Jesus died to teachFought round on round, three minutes each.And thinking that, you'll understandI thought, 'I'll go and take Bill's hand.I'll up and say the fault was mine,He sha'n't make play for these here swine.'And then I thought that that was silly,They'd think I was afraid of Billy:They'd think (I thought it, God forgive me)I funked the hiding Bill could give me.And that thought made me mad and hot.'Think that, will they? Well, they shall not.They sha'n't think that. I will not. I'mDamned if I will. I will not.'Time!From the beginning of the boutMy luck was gone, my hand was out.Right from the start Bill called the play,But I was quick and kept awayTill the fourth round, when work got mixed,And then I knew Bill had me fixed.My hand was out, why, Heaven knows;Bill punched me when and where he chose.Through two more rounds we quartered wideAnd all the time my hands seemed tied;Bill punched me when and where he pleased.The cheering from my backers ceased,But every punch I heard a yellOf 'That's the style, Bill, give him hell.'No one for me, but Jimmy's light'Straight left! Straight left!' and 'Watch his right.'I don't know how a boxer goesWhen all his body hums from blows;I know I seemed to rock and spin,I don't know how I saved my chin;I know I thought my only friendWas that clinked flask at each round's endWhen my two seconds, Ed and Jimmy,Had sixty seconds help to gimme.But in the ninth, with pain and knocksI stopped: I couldn't fight nor box.Bill missed his swing, the light was tricky,But I went down, and stayed down, dicky.'Get up,' cried Jim. I said, 'I will.'Then all the gang yelled, 'Out him, Bill.Out him.' Bill rushed ... and Clink, Clink, Clink.Time! and Jim's knee, and rum to drink.And round the ring there ran a titter:'Saved by the call, the bloody quitter.'They drove (a dodge that never fails)A pin beneath my finger nails.They poured what seemed a running beckOf cold spring water down my neck;Jim with a lancet quick as fliesLowered the swellings round my eyes.They sluiced my legs and fanned my faceThrough all that blessed minute's grace;They gave my calves a thorough kneading,They salved my cuts and stopped the bleeding.A gulp of liquor dulled the pain,And then the two flasks clinked again.Time!There was Bill as grim as death.He rushed, I clinched, to get more breath.And breath I got, though Billy batsSome stinging short-arms in my slats.And when we broke, as I foresaw,He swung his right in for the jaw.I stopped it on my shoulder bone,And at the shock I heard Bill groan--A little groan or moan or gruntAs though I'd hit his wind a bunt.At that, I clinched, and while we clinched,His old-time right-arm dig was flinched,And when we broke he hit me lightAs though he didn't trust his right,He flapped me somehow with his wristAs though he couldn't use his fist,And when he hit he winced with pain.I thought, 'Your sprained thumb's crocked again.'So I got strength and Bill gave ground,And that round was an easy round.During the wait my Jimmy said,'What's making Billy fight so dead?He's all to pieces. Is he blown?''His thumb's out.''No? Then it's your own.It's all your own, but don't be rash--He's got the goods if you've got cash,And what one hand can do he'll do,Be careful this next round or two.'Time! There was Bill, and I felt sickThat luck should play so mean a trickAnd give me leave to knock him outAfter he'd plainly won the bout.But by the way the man came at meHe made it plain he meant to bat me;If you'd a seen the way he comeYou wouldn't think he'd crocked a thumb.With all his skill and all his mightHe clipped me dizzy left and right;The Lord knows what the effort cost,But he was mad to think he'd lost,And knowing nothing else could save himHe didn't care what pain it gave him.He called the music and the danceFor five rounds more and gave no chance.Try to imagine if you canThe kind of manhood in the man,And if you'd like to feel his pain,You sprain your thumb and hit the sprain,And hit it hard, with all your powerOn something hard for half-an-hour,While someone thumps you black and blue,And then you'll know what Billy knew.Bill took that pain without a soundTill half-way through the eighteenth round,And then I sent him down and out,And Silas said, 'Kane wins the bout.'When Bill came to, you understand,I ripped the mitten from my handAnd went across to ask Bill shake.My limbs were all one pain and ache,I was so weary and so soreI don't think I'd a stood much more.Bill in his corner bathed his thumb,Buttoned his shirt and glowered glum.'I'll never shake your hand,' he said.'I'd rather see my children dead.I've been about and had some fun with you,But you're a liar and I've done with you.You've knocked me out, you didn't beat me;Look out the next time that you meet me,There'll be no friend to watch the clock for youAnd no convenient thumb to crock for you,And I'll take care, with much delight,You'll get what you'd a got to-night;That puts my meaning clear, I guess,Now get to hell; I want to dress.'I dressed. My backers one and allSaid, 'Well done you,' or 'Good old Saul.'Saul is a wonder and a fly 'un,What'll you have, Saul, at the Lion?'With merry oaths they helped me downThe stony wood-path to the town.The moonlight shone on Cabbage Walk,It made the limestone look like chalk,It was too late for any people,Twelve struck as we went by the steeple.A dog barked, and an owl was calling,The Squire's brook was still a-falling,The carved heads on the church looked downOn 'Russell, Blacksmith of this Town,'And all the graves of all the ghostsWho rise on Christmas Eve in hostsTo dance and carol in festivityFor joy of Jesus Christ's Nativity(Bell-ringer Dawe and his two sonsBeheld 'em from the bell-tower once),Two and two about aboutSinging the end of Advent out,Dwindling down to windlestrawsWhen the glittering peacock craws,As craw the glittering peacock shouldWhen Christ's own star comes over the wood.Lamb of the sky come out of foldWandering windy heavens cold.So they shone and sang till twelveWhen all the bells ring out of theirselve;Rang a peal for Christmas morn,Glory, men, for Christ is born.All the old monks' singing placesGlimmered quick with flitting faces,Singing anthems, singing hymnsUnder carven cherubims.Ringer Dawe aloft could markFaces at the window darkCrowding, crowding, row on row,Till all the church began to glow.The chapel glowed, the nave, the choir,All the faces became fireBelow the eastern window highTo see Christ's star come up the sky.Then they lifted hands and turned,And all their lifted fingers burned,Burned like the golden altar tallows,Burned like a troop of God's own Hallows,Bringing to mind the burning timeWhen all the bells will rock and chimeAnd burning saints on burning horsesWill sweep the planets from their coursesAnd loose the stars to burn up night.Lord, give us eyes to bear the light.We all went quiet down the ScallengeLest Police Inspector Drew should challenge.But 'Spector Drew was sleeping sweet,His head upon a charges sheet,Under the gas-jet flaring full,Snorting and snoring like a bull,His bull cheeks puffed, his bull lips blowing,His ugly yellow front teeth showing.Just as we peeped we saw him fumbleAnd scratch his head, and shift, and mumble.Down in the lane so thin and darkThe tan-yards stank of bitter bark,The curate's pigeons gave a flutter,A cat went courting down the gutter,And none else stirred a foot or feather.The houses put their heads together,Talking, perhaps, so dark and sly,Of all the folk they'd seen go by,Children, and men and women, merry all,Who'd some day pass that way to burial.It was all dark, but at the turningThe Lion had a window burning.So in we went and up the stairs,Treading as still as cats and hares.The way the stairs creaked made you wonderIf dead men's bones were hidden under.At head of stairs upon the landingA woman with a lamp was standing;She greet each gent at head of stairsWith 'Step in, gents, and take your chairs.The punch'll come when kettle bubble,But don't make noise or there'll be trouble.''Twas Doxy Jane, a bouncing girlWith eyes all sparks and hair all curl,And cheeks all red and lips all coal,And thirst for men instead of soul.She's trod her pathway to the fire.Old Rivers had his nephew by her.I step aside from Tom and JimmyTo find if she'd a kiss to gimme.I blew out lamp 'fore she could speak.She said, 'If you ain't got a cheek,'And then beside me in the dim,'Did he beat you or you beat him?''Why, I beat him' (though that was wrong).She said, 'You must be turble strong.I'd be afraid you'd beat me, too.''You'd not,' I said, 'I wouldn't do.''Never?''No, never.''Never?''No.''O Saul. Here's missus. Let me go.'It wasn't missus, so I didn't,Whether I mid do or I midn't,Until she'd promised we should meetNext evening, six, at top of street,When we could have a quiet talkOn that low wall up Worcester Walk.And while we whispered there togetherI give her silver for a featherAnd felt a drunkenness like wineAnd shut out Christ in husks and swine.I felt the dart strike through my liver.God punish me for't and forgive her.Each one could be a Jesus mild,Each one has been a little child,A little child with laughing look,A lovely white unwritten book;A book that God will take, my friend,As each goes out at journey's end.The Lord who gave us Earth and HeavenTakes that as thanks for all He's given.The book he lent is given backAll blotted red and smutted black.'Open the door,' said Jim, 'and call.'Jane gasped 'They'll see me. Loose me, Saul.'She pushed me by, and ducked downstairWith half the pins out of her hair.I went inside the lit room rollin'Her scented handkerchief I'd stolen.'What would you fancy, Saul?' they said.'A gin punch hot and then to bed.''Jane, fetch the punch bowl to the gemmen;And mind you don't put too much lemon.Our good friend Saul has had a fight of it,Now smoke up, boys, and make a night of it.'The room was full of men and stinkOf bad cigars and heavy drink.Riley was nodding to the floorAnd gurgling as he wanted more.His mouth was wide, his face was pale,His swollen face was sweating ale;And one of those assembled GreeksHad corked black crosses on his cheeks.Thomas was having words with Goss,He 'wouldn't pay, the fight was cross.'And Goss told Tom that 'cross or no,The bets go as the verdicts go,By all I've ever heard or read of.So pay, or else I'll knock your head off.'Jim Gurvil said his smutty sayAbout a girl down Bye Street way.And how the girl from Froggatt's circusDied giving birth in Newent work'us.And Dick told how the Dymock wenchBore twins, poor thing, on Dog Hill bench;And how he'd owned to one in courtAnd how Judge made him sorry for't.Jock set a Jew's harp twanging drily;'Gimme another cup,' said Riley.A dozen more were in their gloriesWith laughs and smokes and smutty stories;And Jimmy joked and took his supAnd sang his song of 'Up, come up.'Jane brought the bowl of stewing ginAnd poured the egg and lemon in,And whisked it up and served it outWhile bawdy questions went about.Jack chucked her chin, and Jim accost herWith bits out of the 'Maid of Gloster.'And fifteen arms went round her waist.(And then men ask, Are Barmaids chaste?)O young men, pray to be kept wholeFrom bringing down a weaker soul.Your minute's joy so meet in doin'May be the woman's door to ruin;The door to wandering up and down,A painted whore at half a crown.The bright mind fouled, the beauty gayAll eaten out and fallen away,By drunken days and weary trampsFrom pub to pub by city lamps,Till men despise the game they startedTill health and beauty are departed,And in a slum the reeking hagMumbles a crust with toothy jag,Or gets the river's help to endThe life too wrecked for man to mend.We spat and smoked and took our swipeTill Silas up and tap his pipe,And begged us all to pay attentionBecause he'd several things to mention.We'd seen the fight (Hear, hear. That's you);But still one task remained to do;That task was his, he didn't shun it,To give the purse to him as won it;With this remark, from start to outHe'd never seen a brisker bout.There was the purse. At that he'd leave it.Let Kane come forward to receive it.I took the purse and hemmed and bowed,And called for gin punch for the crowd;And when the second bowl was done,I called, 'Let's have another one.'Si's wife come in and sipped and sipped(As women will) till she was pipped.And Si hit Dicky Twot a clouterBecause he put his arm about her;But after Si got overtaskedShe sat and kissed whoever asked.My Doxy Jane was splashed by this,I took her on my knee to kiss.And Tom cried out, 'O damn the gin;Why can't we all have women in?Bess Evans, now, or Sister Polly,Or those two housemaids at the Folly?Let someone nip to Biddy Price's,They'd all come in a brace of trices.Rose Davies, Sue, and Betsy Perks;One man, one girl, and damn all Turks.'But, no. 'More gin,' they cried; 'Come on.We'll have the girls in when it's gone.'So round the gin went, hot and heady,Hot Hollands punch on top of deady.
The Project Gutenberg eBook ofThe Everlasting MercyThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: The Everlasting MercyCreator: John MasefieldRelease date: November 23, 2012 [eBook #41467]Most recently updated: March 23, 2014Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MERCY ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: The Everlasting MercyCreator: John MasefieldRelease date: November 23, 2012 [eBook #41467]Most recently updated: March 23, 2014Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines
Title: The Everlasting Mercy
Creator: John Masefield
Creator: John Masefield
Release date: November 23, 2012 [eBook #41467]Most recently updated: March 23, 2014
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EVERLASTING MERCY ***
[image]Cover
[image]Cover
[image]
[image]
Cover
THE EVERLASTING MERCYBYJOHN MASEFIELDAUTHOR OF"THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT""THE TRAGEDY OF NAN," ETC.LONDONSIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHIMCMXIII
THE EVERLASTING MERCY
BYJOHN MASEFIELD
AUTHOR OF"THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT""THE TRAGEDY OF NAN," ETC.
LONDONSIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.3 ADAM STREET, ADELPHIMCMXIII
First Edition, Crown 8vo, November 1911;Reprinted November and December 1911,February, April and August 1912.Reset December 1912; reprinted January(twice), February, March and May, 1913.New Edition, Foolscap 8vo, thirteenththousand, October 1913.Fourteenth thousand, November 1913.Entered at the Library ofCongress, Washington, U.S.A.All rights reserved
First Edition, Crown 8vo, November 1911;Reprinted November and December 1911,February, April and August 1912.Reset December 1912; reprinted January(twice), February, March and May, 1913.New Edition, Foolscap 8vo, thirteenththousand, October 1913.Fourteenth thousand, November 1913.
Entered at the Library ofCongress, Washington, U.S.A.
All rights reserved
BY THE SAME AUTHORTHE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREETCrown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.Fourth ThousandTHE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREATCrown 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. net;Paper Wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.Fourth ImpressionLondon: SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE WIDOW IN THE BYE STREET
Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. net.Fourth Thousand
THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT
Crown 8vo, Cloth, 3s. 6d. net;Paper Wrappers, 1s. 6d. net.Fourth Impression
London: SIDGWICK & JACKSON LTD.
TOMY WIFE
TOMY WIFE
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys deer,Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.JOHN LYDGATE.
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys deer,
Noon erthely paleys wrouhte in so statly wyse,
Com on my freend, my brothir moost enteer,
For the I offryd my blood in sacrifise.
JOHN LYDGATE.
THE EVERLASTING MERCY
From '41 to '51I was my folk's contrary son;I bit my father's hand right throughAnd broke my mother's heart in two.I sometimes go without my dinnerNow that I know the times I've gi'n her.
From '41 to '51
I was my folk's contrary son;
I bit my father's hand right through
And broke my mother's heart in two.
I sometimes go without my dinner
Now that I know the times I've gi'n her.
From '51 to '6lI cut my teeth and took to fun.I learned what not to be afraid ofAnd what stuff women's lips are made of;I learned with what a rosy feelingGood ale makes floors seem like the ceiling,And how the moon gives shiny lightTo lads as roll home singing by't.My blood did leap, my flesh did revel,Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.
From '51 to '6l
I cut my teeth and took to fun.
I learned what not to be afraid of
And what stuff women's lips are made of;
I learned with what a rosy feeling
Good ale makes floors seem like the ceiling,
And how the moon gives shiny light
To lads as roll home singing by't.
My blood did leap, my flesh did revel,
Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.
From '61 to '67I lived in disbelief of heaven.I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored,I did despite unto the Lord,I cursed, 'twould make a man look pale,And nineteen times I went to jail.Now, friends, observe and look upon me,Mark how the Lord took pity on me.
From '61 to '67
I lived in disbelief of heaven.
I drunk, I fought, I poached, I whored,
I did despite unto the Lord,
I cursed, 'twould make a man look pale,
And nineteen times I went to jail.
Now, friends, observe and look upon me,Mark how the Lord took pity on me.
Now, friends, observe and look upon me,
Mark how the Lord took pity on me.
By Dead Man's Thorn, while setting wires,Who should come up but Billy Myers,A friend of mine, who used to beAs black a sprig of hell as me,With whom I'd planned, to save encroachin',Which fields and coverts each should poach in.Now when he saw me set my snare,He tells me 'Get to hell from there.This field is mine,' he says, 'by right;If you poach here, there'll be a fight.Out now,' he says, 'and leave your wire;It's mine.''It ain't.''You put.''You liar.'
By Dead Man's Thorn, while setting wires,
Who should come up but Billy Myers,
A friend of mine, who used to be
As black a sprig of hell as me,
With whom I'd planned, to save encroachin',
Which fields and coverts each should poach in.
Now when he saw me set my snare,
He tells me 'Get to hell from there.
This field is mine,' he says, 'by right;
If you poach here, there'll be a fight.
Out now,' he says, 'and leave your wire;
It's mine.'
'It ain't.''You put.''You liar.'
'It ain't.'
'You put.''You liar.'
'You put.'
'You liar.'
'You liar.'
'You closhy put.''You bloody liar.''This is my field.''This is my wire.''I'm ruler here.''You ain't.''I am.''I'll fight you for it.''Right, by damn.Not now, though, I've a-sprained my thumb,We'll fight after the harvest hum.And Silas Jones, that bookie wide,Will make a purse five pounds a side.'Those were the words, that was the placeBy which God brought me into grace.
'You closhy put.'
'You bloody liar.'
'You bloody liar.'
'This is my field.'
'This is my wire.'
'This is my wire.'
'This is my wire.'
'I'm ruler here.'
'You ain't.''I am.'
'You ain't.'
'I am.'
'I am.'
'I am.'
'I am.'
'I'll fight you for it.'
'Right, by damn.
'Right, by damn.
'Right, by damn.
'Right, by damn.
Not now, though, I've a-sprained my thumb,
We'll fight after the harvest hum.
And Silas Jones, that bookie wide,
Will make a purse five pounds a side.'
Those were the words, that was the place
By which God brought me into grace.
On Wood Top Field the peewits goMewing and wheeling ever so;And like the shaking of a timbrelCackles the laughter of the whimbrel.In the old quarry-pit they sayHead-keeper Pike was made away.
On Wood Top Field the peewits go
Mewing and wheeling ever so;
And like the shaking of a timbrel
Cackles the laughter of the whimbrel.
In the old quarry-pit they say
Head-keeper Pike was made away.
He walks, head-keeper Pike, for harm,He taps the windows of the farm;The blood drips from his broken chin,He taps and begs to be let in.On Wood Top, nights, I've shaked to harkThe peewits wambling in the darkLest in the dark the old man mightCreep up to me to beg a light.
He walks, head-keeper Pike, for harm,
He taps the windows of the farm;
The blood drips from his broken chin,
He taps and begs to be let in.
On Wood Top, nights, I've shaked to hark
The peewits wambling in the dark
Lest in the dark the old man might
Creep up to me to beg a light.
But Wood Top grass is short and sweetAnd springy to a boxer's feet;At harvest hum the moon so brightDid shine on Wood Top for the fight.
But Wood Top grass is short and sweet
And springy to a boxer's feet;
At harvest hum the moon so bright
Did shine on Wood Top for the fight.
When Bill was stripped down to his bendsI thought how long we two'd been friends,And in my mind, about that wire,I thought 'He's right, I am a liar,As sure as skilly's made in prisonThe right to poach that copse is his'n.I'll have no luck to-night,' thinks I.'I'm fighting to defend a lie.
When Bill was stripped down to his bends
I thought how long we two'd been friends,
And in my mind, about that wire,
I thought 'He's right, I am a liar,
As sure as skilly's made in prison
The right to poach that copse is his'n.
I'll have no luck to-night,' thinks I.
'I'm fighting to defend a lie.
And this moonshiny evening's funIs worse than aught I ever done.'And thinking that way my heart bled soI almost stept to Bill and said so.And now Bill's dead I would be gladIf I could only think I had.But no. I put the thought awayFor fear of what my friends would say.They'd backed me, see? O Lord, the sinDone for the things there's money in.
And this moonshiny evening's fun
Is worse than aught I ever done.'
And thinking that way my heart bled so
I almost stept to Bill and said so.
And now Bill's dead I would be glad
If I could only think I had.
But no. I put the thought away
For fear of what my friends would say.
They'd backed me, see? O Lord, the sin
Done for the things there's money in.
The stakes were drove, the ropes were hitched,Into the ring my hat I pitched.My corner faced the Squire's parkJust where the fir-trees make it dark;The place where I begun poor NellUpon the woman's road to hell.I thought oft, sitting in my cornerAfter the time-keep struck his warner(Two brandy flasks, for fear of noise,Clinked out the time to us two boys).And while my seconds chafed and gloved meI thought of Nell's eyes when she loved me,And wondered how my tot would end,First Nell cast off and now my friend;And in the moonlight dim and wanI knew quite well my luck was gone;And looking round I felt a spiteAt all who'd come to see me fight;The five and forty human facesInflamed by drink and going to races,Faces of men who'd never beenMerry or true or live or clean;Who'd never felt the boxer's trimOf brain divinely knit to limb,Nor felt the whole live body goOne tingling health from top to toe;Nor took a punch nor given a swing,But just soaked deady round the ringUntil their brains and bloods were foulEnough to make their throttles howl,While we whom Jesus died to teachFought round on round, three minutes each.
The stakes were drove, the ropes were hitched,
Into the ring my hat I pitched.
My corner faced the Squire's park
Just where the fir-trees make it dark;
The place where I begun poor Nell
Upon the woman's road to hell.
I thought oft, sitting in my corner
After the time-keep struck his warner
(Two brandy flasks, for fear of noise,
Clinked out the time to us two boys).
And while my seconds chafed and gloved me
I thought of Nell's eyes when she loved me,
And wondered how my tot would end,
First Nell cast off and now my friend;
And in the moonlight dim and wan
I knew quite well my luck was gone;
And looking round I felt a spite
At all who'd come to see me fight;
The five and forty human faces
Inflamed by drink and going to races,
Faces of men who'd never been
Merry or true or live or clean;
Who'd never felt the boxer's trim
Of brain divinely knit to limb,
Nor felt the whole live body go
One tingling health from top to toe;
Nor took a punch nor given a swing,
But just soaked deady round the ring
Until their brains and bloods were foul
Enough to make their throttles howl,
While we whom Jesus died to teach
Fought round on round, three minutes each.
And thinking that, you'll understandI thought, 'I'll go and take Bill's hand.I'll up and say the fault was mine,He sha'n't make play for these here swine.'And then I thought that that was silly,They'd think I was afraid of Billy:They'd think (I thought it, God forgive me)I funked the hiding Bill could give me.And that thought made me mad and hot.'Think that, will they? Well, they shall not.They sha'n't think that. I will not. I'mDamned if I will. I will not.'Time!
And thinking that, you'll understand
I thought, 'I'll go and take Bill's hand.
I'll up and say the fault was mine,
He sha'n't make play for these here swine.'
And then I thought that that was silly,
They'd think I was afraid of Billy:
They'd think (I thought it, God forgive me)
I funked the hiding Bill could give me.
And that thought made me mad and hot.
'Think that, will they? Well, they shall not.
They sha'n't think that. I will not. I'm
Damned if I will. I will not.'
Time!
Time!
From the beginning of the boutMy luck was gone, my hand was out.Right from the start Bill called the play,But I was quick and kept awayTill the fourth round, when work got mixed,And then I knew Bill had me fixed.My hand was out, why, Heaven knows;Bill punched me when and where he chose.Through two more rounds we quartered wideAnd all the time my hands seemed tied;Bill punched me when and where he pleased.The cheering from my backers ceased,But every punch I heard a yellOf 'That's the style, Bill, give him hell.'No one for me, but Jimmy's light'Straight left! Straight left!' and 'Watch his right.'
From the beginning of the bout
My luck was gone, my hand was out.
Right from the start Bill called the play,
But I was quick and kept away
Till the fourth round, when work got mixed,
And then I knew Bill had me fixed.
My hand was out, why, Heaven knows;
Bill punched me when and where he chose.
Through two more rounds we quartered wide
And all the time my hands seemed tied;
Bill punched me when and where he pleased.
The cheering from my backers ceased,
But every punch I heard a yell
Of 'That's the style, Bill, give him hell.'
No one for me, but Jimmy's light
'Straight left! Straight left!' and 'Watch his right.'
I don't know how a boxer goesWhen all his body hums from blows;I know I seemed to rock and spin,I don't know how I saved my chin;I know I thought my only friendWas that clinked flask at each round's endWhen my two seconds, Ed and Jimmy,Had sixty seconds help to gimme.But in the ninth, with pain and knocksI stopped: I couldn't fight nor box.Bill missed his swing, the light was tricky,But I went down, and stayed down, dicky.'Get up,' cried Jim. I said, 'I will.'Then all the gang yelled, 'Out him, Bill.Out him.' Bill rushed ... and Clink, Clink, Clink.Time! and Jim's knee, and rum to drink.And round the ring there ran a titter:'Saved by the call, the bloody quitter.'
I don't know how a boxer goes
When all his body hums from blows;
I know I seemed to rock and spin,
I don't know how I saved my chin;
I know I thought my only friend
Was that clinked flask at each round's end
When my two seconds, Ed and Jimmy,
Had sixty seconds help to gimme.
But in the ninth, with pain and knocks
I stopped: I couldn't fight nor box.
Bill missed his swing, the light was tricky,
But I went down, and stayed down, dicky.
'Get up,' cried Jim. I said, 'I will.'
Then all the gang yelled, 'Out him, Bill.
Out him.' Bill rushed ... and Clink, Clink, Clink.
Time! and Jim's knee, and rum to drink.
And round the ring there ran a titter:
'Saved by the call, the bloody quitter.'
They drove (a dodge that never fails)A pin beneath my finger nails.They poured what seemed a running beckOf cold spring water down my neck;Jim with a lancet quick as fliesLowered the swellings round my eyes.They sluiced my legs and fanned my faceThrough all that blessed minute's grace;They gave my calves a thorough kneading,They salved my cuts and stopped the bleeding.A gulp of liquor dulled the pain,And then the two flasks clinked again.Time!There was Bill as grim as death.He rushed, I clinched, to get more breath.And breath I got, though Billy batsSome stinging short-arms in my slats.
They drove (a dodge that never fails)
A pin beneath my finger nails.
They poured what seemed a running beck
Of cold spring water down my neck;
Jim with a lancet quick as flies
Lowered the swellings round my eyes.
They sluiced my legs and fanned my face
Through all that blessed minute's grace;
They gave my calves a thorough kneading,
They salved my cuts and stopped the bleeding.
A gulp of liquor dulled the pain,
And then the two flasks clinked again.
Time!
There was Bill as grim as death.
There was Bill as grim as death.
He rushed, I clinched, to get more breath.
And breath I got, though Billy bats
Some stinging short-arms in my slats.
And when we broke, as I foresaw,He swung his right in for the jaw.I stopped it on my shoulder bone,And at the shock I heard Bill groan--A little groan or moan or gruntAs though I'd hit his wind a bunt.At that, I clinched, and while we clinched,His old-time right-arm dig was flinched,And when we broke he hit me lightAs though he didn't trust his right,He flapped me somehow with his wristAs though he couldn't use his fist,And when he hit he winced with pain.I thought, 'Your sprained thumb's crocked again.'So I got strength and Bill gave ground,And that round was an easy round.
And when we broke, as I foresaw,
He swung his right in for the jaw.
I stopped it on my shoulder bone,
And at the shock I heard Bill groan--
A little groan or moan or grunt
As though I'd hit his wind a bunt.
At that, I clinched, and while we clinched,
His old-time right-arm dig was flinched,
And when we broke he hit me light
As though he didn't trust his right,
He flapped me somehow with his wrist
As though he couldn't use his fist,
And when he hit he winced with pain.
I thought, 'Your sprained thumb's crocked again.'
So I got strength and Bill gave ground,
And that round was an easy round.
During the wait my Jimmy said,'What's making Billy fight so dead?He's all to pieces. Is he blown?''His thumb's out.''No? Then it's your own.It's all your own, but don't be rash--He's got the goods if you've got cash,And what one hand can do he'll do,Be careful this next round or two.'
During the wait my Jimmy said,
'What's making Billy fight so dead?
He's all to pieces. Is he blown?'
'His thumb's out.'
'No? Then it's your own.
'No? Then it's your own.
It's all your own, but don't be rash--
He's got the goods if you've got cash,
And what one hand can do he'll do,
Be careful this next round or two.'
Time! There was Bill, and I felt sickThat luck should play so mean a trickAnd give me leave to knock him outAfter he'd plainly won the bout.But by the way the man came at meHe made it plain he meant to bat me;If you'd a seen the way he comeYou wouldn't think he'd crocked a thumb.With all his skill and all his mightHe clipped me dizzy left and right;The Lord knows what the effort cost,But he was mad to think he'd lost,And knowing nothing else could save himHe didn't care what pain it gave him.He called the music and the danceFor five rounds more and gave no chance.
Time! There was Bill, and I felt sick
That luck should play so mean a trick
And give me leave to knock him out
After he'd plainly won the bout.
But by the way the man came at me
He made it plain he meant to bat me;
If you'd a seen the way he come
You wouldn't think he'd crocked a thumb.
With all his skill and all his might
He clipped me dizzy left and right;
The Lord knows what the effort cost,
But he was mad to think he'd lost,
And knowing nothing else could save him
He didn't care what pain it gave him.
He called the music and the dance
For five rounds more and gave no chance.
Try to imagine if you canThe kind of manhood in the man,And if you'd like to feel his pain,You sprain your thumb and hit the sprain,And hit it hard, with all your powerOn something hard for half-an-hour,While someone thumps you black and blue,And then you'll know what Billy knew.Bill took that pain without a soundTill half-way through the eighteenth round,And then I sent him down and out,And Silas said, 'Kane wins the bout.'
Try to imagine if you can
The kind of manhood in the man,
And if you'd like to feel his pain,
You sprain your thumb and hit the sprain,
And hit it hard, with all your power
On something hard for half-an-hour,
While someone thumps you black and blue,
And then you'll know what Billy knew.
Bill took that pain without a sound
Till half-way through the eighteenth round,
And then I sent him down and out,
And Silas said, 'Kane wins the bout.'
When Bill came to, you understand,I ripped the mitten from my handAnd went across to ask Bill shake.My limbs were all one pain and ache,I was so weary and so soreI don't think I'd a stood much more.Bill in his corner bathed his thumb,Buttoned his shirt and glowered glum.'I'll never shake your hand,' he said.'I'd rather see my children dead.I've been about and had some fun with you,But you're a liar and I've done with you.You've knocked me out, you didn't beat me;Look out the next time that you meet me,There'll be no friend to watch the clock for youAnd no convenient thumb to crock for you,And I'll take care, with much delight,You'll get what you'd a got to-night;That puts my meaning clear, I guess,Now get to hell; I want to dress.'
When Bill came to, you understand,
I ripped the mitten from my hand
And went across to ask Bill shake.
My limbs were all one pain and ache,
I was so weary and so sore
I don't think I'd a stood much more.
Bill in his corner bathed his thumb,
Buttoned his shirt and glowered glum.
'I'll never shake your hand,' he said.
'I'd rather see my children dead.
I've been about and had some fun with you,
But you're a liar and I've done with you.
You've knocked me out, you didn't beat me;
Look out the next time that you meet me,
There'll be no friend to watch the clock for you
And no convenient thumb to crock for you,
And I'll take care, with much delight,
You'll get what you'd a got to-night;
That puts my meaning clear, I guess,
Now get to hell; I want to dress.'
I dressed. My backers one and allSaid, 'Well done you,' or 'Good old Saul.'Saul is a wonder and a fly 'un,What'll you have, Saul, at the Lion?'With merry oaths they helped me downThe stony wood-path to the town.
I dressed. My backers one and all
Said, 'Well done you,' or 'Good old Saul.
'Saul is a wonder and a fly 'un,
What'll you have, Saul, at the Lion?'
With merry oaths they helped me down
The stony wood-path to the town.
The moonlight shone on Cabbage Walk,It made the limestone look like chalk,It was too late for any people,Twelve struck as we went by the steeple.A dog barked, and an owl was calling,The Squire's brook was still a-falling,The carved heads on the church looked downOn 'Russell, Blacksmith of this Town,'And all the graves of all the ghostsWho rise on Christmas Eve in hostsTo dance and carol in festivityFor joy of Jesus Christ's Nativity(Bell-ringer Dawe and his two sonsBeheld 'em from the bell-tower once),Two and two about aboutSinging the end of Advent out,Dwindling down to windlestrawsWhen the glittering peacock craws,As craw the glittering peacock shouldWhen Christ's own star comes over the wood.Lamb of the sky come out of foldWandering windy heavens cold.So they shone and sang till twelveWhen all the bells ring out of theirselve;Rang a peal for Christmas morn,Glory, men, for Christ is born.
The moonlight shone on Cabbage Walk,
It made the limestone look like chalk,
It was too late for any people,
Twelve struck as we went by the steeple.
A dog barked, and an owl was calling,
The Squire's brook was still a-falling,
The carved heads on the church looked down
On 'Russell, Blacksmith of this Town,'
And all the graves of all the ghosts
Who rise on Christmas Eve in hosts
To dance and carol in festivity
For joy of Jesus Christ's Nativity
(Bell-ringer Dawe and his two sons
Beheld 'em from the bell-tower once),
Two and two about about
Singing the end of Advent out,
Dwindling down to windlestraws
When the glittering peacock craws,
As craw the glittering peacock should
When Christ's own star comes over the wood.
Lamb of the sky come out of fold
Wandering windy heavens cold.
So they shone and sang till twelve
When all the bells ring out of theirselve;
Rang a peal for Christmas morn,
Glory, men, for Christ is born.
All the old monks' singing placesGlimmered quick with flitting faces,Singing anthems, singing hymnsUnder carven cherubims.Ringer Dawe aloft could markFaces at the window darkCrowding, crowding, row on row,Till all the church began to glow.The chapel glowed, the nave, the choir,All the faces became fireBelow the eastern window highTo see Christ's star come up the sky.Then they lifted hands and turned,And all their lifted fingers burned,Burned like the golden altar tallows,Burned like a troop of God's own Hallows,Bringing to mind the burning timeWhen all the bells will rock and chimeAnd burning saints on burning horsesWill sweep the planets from their coursesAnd loose the stars to burn up night.Lord, give us eyes to bear the light.
All the old monks' singing places
Glimmered quick with flitting faces,
Singing anthems, singing hymns
Under carven cherubims.
Ringer Dawe aloft could mark
Faces at the window dark
Crowding, crowding, row on row,
Till all the church began to glow.
The chapel glowed, the nave, the choir,
All the faces became fire
Below the eastern window high
To see Christ's star come up the sky.
Then they lifted hands and turned,
And all their lifted fingers burned,
Burned like the golden altar tallows,
Burned like a troop of God's own Hallows,
Bringing to mind the burning time
When all the bells will rock and chime
And burning saints on burning horses
Will sweep the planets from their courses
And loose the stars to burn up night.
Lord, give us eyes to bear the light.
We all went quiet down the ScallengeLest Police Inspector Drew should challenge.But 'Spector Drew was sleeping sweet,His head upon a charges sheet,Under the gas-jet flaring full,Snorting and snoring like a bull,His bull cheeks puffed, his bull lips blowing,His ugly yellow front teeth showing.Just as we peeped we saw him fumbleAnd scratch his head, and shift, and mumble.
We all went quiet down the Scallenge
Lest Police Inspector Drew should challenge.
But 'Spector Drew was sleeping sweet,
His head upon a charges sheet,
Under the gas-jet flaring full,
Snorting and snoring like a bull,
His bull cheeks puffed, his bull lips blowing,
His ugly yellow front teeth showing.
Just as we peeped we saw him fumble
And scratch his head, and shift, and mumble.
Down in the lane so thin and darkThe tan-yards stank of bitter bark,The curate's pigeons gave a flutter,A cat went courting down the gutter,And none else stirred a foot or feather.The houses put their heads together,Talking, perhaps, so dark and sly,Of all the folk they'd seen go by,Children, and men and women, merry all,Who'd some day pass that way to burial.It was all dark, but at the turningThe Lion had a window burning.So in we went and up the stairs,Treading as still as cats and hares.
Down in the lane so thin and dark
The tan-yards stank of bitter bark,
The curate's pigeons gave a flutter,
A cat went courting down the gutter,
And none else stirred a foot or feather.
The houses put their heads together,
Talking, perhaps, so dark and sly,
Of all the folk they'd seen go by,
Children, and men and women, merry all,
Who'd some day pass that way to burial.
It was all dark, but at the turning
The Lion had a window burning.
So in we went and up the stairs,
Treading as still as cats and hares.
The way the stairs creaked made you wonderIf dead men's bones were hidden under.At head of stairs upon the landingA woman with a lamp was standing;She greet each gent at head of stairsWith 'Step in, gents, and take your chairs.The punch'll come when kettle bubble,But don't make noise or there'll be trouble.''Twas Doxy Jane, a bouncing girlWith eyes all sparks and hair all curl,And cheeks all red and lips all coal,And thirst for men instead of soul.She's trod her pathway to the fire.Old Rivers had his nephew by her.
The way the stairs creaked made you wonder
If dead men's bones were hidden under.
At head of stairs upon the landing
A woman with a lamp was standing;
She greet each gent at head of stairs
With 'Step in, gents, and take your chairs.
The punch'll come when kettle bubble,
But don't make noise or there'll be trouble.'
'Twas Doxy Jane, a bouncing girl
With eyes all sparks and hair all curl,
And cheeks all red and lips all coal,
And thirst for men instead of soul.
She's trod her pathway to the fire.
Old Rivers had his nephew by her.
I step aside from Tom and JimmyTo find if she'd a kiss to gimme.I blew out lamp 'fore she could speak.She said, 'If you ain't got a cheek,'And then beside me in the dim,'Did he beat you or you beat him?''Why, I beat him' (though that was wrong).She said, 'You must be turble strong.I'd be afraid you'd beat me, too.''You'd not,' I said, 'I wouldn't do.''Never?''No, never.''Never?''No.''O Saul. Here's missus. Let me go.'It wasn't missus, so I didn't,Whether I mid do or I midn't,Until she'd promised we should meetNext evening, six, at top of street,When we could have a quiet talkOn that low wall up Worcester Walk.And while we whispered there togetherI give her silver for a featherAnd felt a drunkenness like wineAnd shut out Christ in husks and swine.I felt the dart strike through my liver.God punish me for't and forgive her.
I step aside from Tom and Jimmy
To find if she'd a kiss to gimme.
I blew out lamp 'fore she could speak.
She said, 'If you ain't got a cheek,'
And then beside me in the dim,
'Did he beat you or you beat him?'
'Why, I beat him' (though that was wrong).
She said, 'You must be turble strong.
I'd be afraid you'd beat me, too.'
'You'd not,' I said, 'I wouldn't do.'
'Never?'
'No, never.''Never?''No.'
'No, never.'
'Never?''No.'
'Never?'
'No.'
'No.'
'O Saul. Here's missus. Let me go.'
It wasn't missus, so I didn't,
Whether I mid do or I midn't,
Until she'd promised we should meet
Next evening, six, at top of street,
When we could have a quiet talk
On that low wall up Worcester Walk.
And while we whispered there together
I give her silver for a feather
And felt a drunkenness like wine
And shut out Christ in husks and swine.
I felt the dart strike through my liver.
God punish me for't and forgive her.
Each one could be a Jesus mild,Each one has been a little child,A little child with laughing look,A lovely white unwritten book;A book that God will take, my friend,As each goes out at journey's end.The Lord who gave us Earth and HeavenTakes that as thanks for all He's given.The book he lent is given backAll blotted red and smutted black.
Each one could be a Jesus mild,
Each one has been a little child,
A little child with laughing look,
A lovely white unwritten book;
A book that God will take, my friend,
As each goes out at journey's end.
The Lord who gave us Earth and Heaven
Takes that as thanks for all He's given.
The book he lent is given back
All blotted red and smutted black.
'Open the door,' said Jim, 'and call.'Jane gasped 'They'll see me. Loose me, Saul.'She pushed me by, and ducked downstairWith half the pins out of her hair.I went inside the lit room rollin'Her scented handkerchief I'd stolen.'What would you fancy, Saul?' they said.'A gin punch hot and then to bed.''Jane, fetch the punch bowl to the gemmen;And mind you don't put too much lemon.Our good friend Saul has had a fight of it,Now smoke up, boys, and make a night of it.'
'Open the door,' said Jim, 'and call.'
Jane gasped 'They'll see me. Loose me, Saul.'
She pushed me by, and ducked downstair
With half the pins out of her hair.
I went inside the lit room rollin'
Her scented handkerchief I'd stolen.
'What would you fancy, Saul?' they said.
'A gin punch hot and then to bed.'
'Jane, fetch the punch bowl to the gemmen;
And mind you don't put too much lemon.
Our good friend Saul has had a fight of it,
Now smoke up, boys, and make a night of it.'
The room was full of men and stinkOf bad cigars and heavy drink.Riley was nodding to the floorAnd gurgling as he wanted more.His mouth was wide, his face was pale,His swollen face was sweating ale;And one of those assembled GreeksHad corked black crosses on his cheeks.Thomas was having words with Goss,He 'wouldn't pay, the fight was cross.'And Goss told Tom that 'cross or no,The bets go as the verdicts go,By all I've ever heard or read of.So pay, or else I'll knock your head off.'Jim Gurvil said his smutty sayAbout a girl down Bye Street way.And how the girl from Froggatt's circusDied giving birth in Newent work'us.And Dick told how the Dymock wenchBore twins, poor thing, on Dog Hill bench;And how he'd owned to one in courtAnd how Judge made him sorry for't.Jock set a Jew's harp twanging drily;'Gimme another cup,' said Riley.
The room was full of men and stink
Of bad cigars and heavy drink.
Riley was nodding to the floor
And gurgling as he wanted more.
His mouth was wide, his face was pale,
His swollen face was sweating ale;
And one of those assembled Greeks
Had corked black crosses on his cheeks.
Thomas was having words with Goss,
He 'wouldn't pay, the fight was cross.'
And Goss told Tom that 'cross or no,
The bets go as the verdicts go,
By all I've ever heard or read of.
So pay, or else I'll knock your head off.'
Jim Gurvil said his smutty say
About a girl down Bye Street way.
And how the girl from Froggatt's circus
Died giving birth in Newent work'us.
And Dick told how the Dymock wench
Bore twins, poor thing, on Dog Hill bench;
And how he'd owned to one in court
And how Judge made him sorry for't.
Jock set a Jew's harp twanging drily;
'Gimme another cup,' said Riley.
A dozen more were in their gloriesWith laughs and smokes and smutty stories;And Jimmy joked and took his supAnd sang his song of 'Up, come up.'Jane brought the bowl of stewing ginAnd poured the egg and lemon in,And whisked it up and served it outWhile bawdy questions went about.Jack chucked her chin, and Jim accost herWith bits out of the 'Maid of Gloster.'And fifteen arms went round her waist.(And then men ask, Are Barmaids chaste?)
A dozen more were in their glories
With laughs and smokes and smutty stories;
And Jimmy joked and took his sup
And sang his song of 'Up, come up.'
Jane brought the bowl of stewing gin
And poured the egg and lemon in,
And whisked it up and served it out
While bawdy questions went about.
Jack chucked her chin, and Jim accost her
With bits out of the 'Maid of Gloster.'
And fifteen arms went round her waist.
(And then men ask, Are Barmaids chaste?)
O young men, pray to be kept wholeFrom bringing down a weaker soul.Your minute's joy so meet in doin'May be the woman's door to ruin;The door to wandering up and down,A painted whore at half a crown.The bright mind fouled, the beauty gayAll eaten out and fallen away,By drunken days and weary trampsFrom pub to pub by city lamps,Till men despise the game they startedTill health and beauty are departed,And in a slum the reeking hagMumbles a crust with toothy jag,Or gets the river's help to endThe life too wrecked for man to mend.
O young men, pray to be kept whole
From bringing down a weaker soul.
Your minute's joy so meet in doin'
May be the woman's door to ruin;
The door to wandering up and down,
A painted whore at half a crown.
The bright mind fouled, the beauty gay
All eaten out and fallen away,
By drunken days and weary tramps
From pub to pub by city lamps,
Till men despise the game they started
Till health and beauty are departed,
And in a slum the reeking hag
Mumbles a crust with toothy jag,
Or gets the river's help to end
The life too wrecked for man to mend.
We spat and smoked and took our swipeTill Silas up and tap his pipe,And begged us all to pay attentionBecause he'd several things to mention.We'd seen the fight (Hear, hear. That's you);But still one task remained to do;That task was his, he didn't shun it,To give the purse to him as won it;With this remark, from start to outHe'd never seen a brisker bout.There was the purse. At that he'd leave it.Let Kane come forward to receive it.
We spat and smoked and took our swipe
Till Silas up and tap his pipe,
And begged us all to pay attention
Because he'd several things to mention.
We'd seen the fight (Hear, hear. That's you);
But still one task remained to do;
That task was his, he didn't shun it,
To give the purse to him as won it;
With this remark, from start to out
He'd never seen a brisker bout.
There was the purse. At that he'd leave it.
Let Kane come forward to receive it.
I took the purse and hemmed and bowed,And called for gin punch for the crowd;And when the second bowl was done,I called, 'Let's have another one.'Si's wife come in and sipped and sipped(As women will) till she was pipped.And Si hit Dicky Twot a clouterBecause he put his arm about her;But after Si got overtaskedShe sat and kissed whoever asked.My Doxy Jane was splashed by this,I took her on my knee to kiss.And Tom cried out, 'O damn the gin;Why can't we all have women in?Bess Evans, now, or Sister Polly,Or those two housemaids at the Folly?Let someone nip to Biddy Price's,They'd all come in a brace of trices.Rose Davies, Sue, and Betsy Perks;One man, one girl, and damn all Turks.'But, no. 'More gin,' they cried; 'Come on.We'll have the girls in when it's gone.'So round the gin went, hot and heady,Hot Hollands punch on top of deady.
I took the purse and hemmed and bowed,
And called for gin punch for the crowd;
And when the second bowl was done,
I called, 'Let's have another one.'
Si's wife come in and sipped and sipped
(As women will) till she was pipped.
And Si hit Dicky Twot a clouter
Because he put his arm about her;
But after Si got overtasked
She sat and kissed whoever asked.
My Doxy Jane was splashed by this,
I took her on my knee to kiss.
And Tom cried out, 'O damn the gin;
Why can't we all have women in?
Bess Evans, now, or Sister Polly,
Or those two housemaids at the Folly?
Let someone nip to Biddy Price's,
They'd all come in a brace of trices.
Rose Davies, Sue, and Betsy Perks;
One man, one girl, and damn all Turks.'
But, no. 'More gin,' they cried; 'Come on.
We'll have the girls in when it's gone.'
So round the gin went, hot and heady,
Hot Hollands punch on top of deady.