Doubting, she stood the dishes in the rack,'We'll ask her in some evening, then,' she said,'How nice her hair looked in the bit of black.'And still she peered from eyes all dim and redTo note at once if Jimmy drooped his head,Or if his ears blushed when he heard her praised,And Jimmy blushed and hung his head and gazed.'This is the end,' she thought. 'This is the end.I'll have to sew again for Mr Jones,Do hems when I can hardly see to mend,And have the old ache in my marrow-bones.And when his wife's in child-bed, when she groans,She'll send for me until the pains have ceased,And give me leavings at the christening feast.And sit aslant to eye me as I eat,"You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day,Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat,Don't ever think I mean to let you stay;Two's company, three's none, that's what I say."Life can be bitter to the very boneWhen one is poor, and woman, and alone.'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear,Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,'And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear,'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head.'His name was little Binger.' 'Jim,' she said,'Binger, now, chorus' ... Jimmy kicked the hob,The sacrament of song died in a sob.Jimmy went out into the night to thinkUnder the moon so steady in the blue.The woman's beauty ran in him like drink,The fear that men had loved her burnt him through;The fear that even then another knewAll the deep mystery which women makeTo hide the inner nothing made him shake.'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.'He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills.A white star glimmered in the long canal,A droning from the music came in thrills.Love is a flame to burn out human wills,Love is a flame to set the will on fire,Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.One of the three, we make Love what we choose,But Jimmy did not know, he only thoughtThat Anna was too beautiful to lose,That she was all the world and he was naught,That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught.'Anna, I love you.' Underneath the moon,'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.'The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow.The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel,The rifles cease, the folk begin to go,The hands unclamp the swing-boats from the wheel,There is a smell of trodden orange peel;The organ drones and dies, the horses stop,And then the tent collapses from the top.The fair is over, let the people troop,The drunkards stagger homewards down the gutters,The showmen heave in an excited group,The poles tilt slowly down, the canvas flutters,The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters.'Lower away.' 'Go easy.' 'Lower, lower.''You've dang near knock my skull in. Loose it slower.''Back in the horses.' 'Are the swing-boats loaded?''All right to start.' 'Bill, where's the cushion gone?The red one for the Queen?' 'I think I stowed it.''You think, you think. Lord, where's that cushion, John?''It's in that bloody box you're sitting on,What more d'you want?' A concertina playsFar off as wandering lovers go their ways.Up the dim Bye Street to the market-placeThe dead bones of the fair are borne in carts,Horses and swing-boats at a funeral paceAfter triumphant hours quickening hearts;A policeman eyes each waggon as it starts,The drowsy showmen stumble half asleep,One of them catcalls, having drunken deep.So out, over the pass, into the plain,And the dawn finds them filling empty cansIn some sweet-smelling dusty country lane,Where a brook chatters over rusty pans.The iron chimneys of the caravansSmoke as they go. And now the fair has goneTo find a new pitch somewhere further on.But as the fair moved out two lovers came,Ernie and Bessie loitering out together;Bessie with wild eyes, hungry as a flame,Ern like a stallion tugging at a tether.It was calm moonlight, and October weather,So still, so lovely, as they topped the ridge.They brushed by Jimmy standing on the bridge.And, as they passed, they gravely eyed each other,And the blood burned in each heart beating there;And out into the Bye Street tottered mother,Without her shawl, in the October air.'Jimmy,' she cried, 'Jimmy.' And Bessie's hairDrooped on the instant over Ernie's face,And the two lovers clung in an embrace.'O, Ern.' 'My own, my Bessie.' As they kissedJimmy was envious of the thing unknown.So this was Love, the something he had missed,Woman and man athirst, aflame, alone.Envy went knocking at his marrow-bone,And Anna's face swam up so dim, so fair,Shining and sweet, with poppies in her hair.IIIAfter the fair, the gang began again.Tipping the trollies down the banks of earth.The truck of stone clanks on the endless chain,A clever pony guides it to its berth.'Let go.' It tips, the navvies shout for mirthTo see the pony step aside, so wise,But Jimmy sighed, thinking of Anna's eyes.And when he stopped his shovelling he lookedOver the junipers towards Plaister way,The beauty of his darling had him hooked,He had no heart for wrastling with the clay.'O Lord Almighty, I must get away;O Lord, I must. I must just see my flower,Why, I could run there in the dinner hour.'The whistle on the pilot engine blew,The men knocked off, and Jimmy slipped asideOver the fence, over the bridge, and through,And then ahead along the water-side,Under the red-brick rail-bridge, arching wide,Over the hedge, across the fields, and on;The foreman asked: 'Where's Jimmy Gurney gone?'It is a mile and more to Plaister's End,But Jimmy ran the short way by the stream,And there was Anna's cottage at the bend,With blue smoke on the chimney, faint as steam.'God, she's at home,' and up his heart a gleamLeapt like a rocket on November nights,And shattered slowly in a burst of lights.Anna was singing at her kitchen fire,She was surprised, and not well pleased to seeA sweating navvy, red with heat and mire,Come to her door, whoever he might be.But when she saw that it was Jimmy, sheSmiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain,And thought, 'But, still, he mustn't come again.People will talk; boys are such crazy things;But he's a dear boy though he is so green.'So, hurriedly, she slipped her apron strings,And dabbed her hair, and wiped her fingers clean,And came to greet him languid as a queen,Looking as sweet, as fair, as pure, as sad,As when she drove her loving husband mad.'Poor boy,' she said, 'Poor boy, how hot you are.'She laid a cool hand to his sweating face.'How kind to come. Have you been running far?I'm just going out; come up the road a pace.O dear, these hens; they're all about the place.'So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command,And got outside the gate as she had planned.'Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true;I had to come--I don't know--I can't rest--I lay awake all night, thinking of you.Many must love you, but I love you best.''Many have loved me, yes, dear,' she confessed,She smiled upon him with a tender pride,'But my love ended when my husband died.Still, we'll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends;Love with its fever's at an end for me.Be by me gently now the fever ends,Life is a lovelier thing than lovers see,I'd like to trust a man, Jimmy,' said she,'May I trust you?' 'Oh, Anna dear, my dear----'Don't come so close,' she said, 'with people near.Dear, don't be vexed; it's very sweet to findOne who will understand; but life is life,And those who do not know are so unkind.But you'll be by me, Jimmy, in the strife,I love you though I cannot be your wife;And now be off, before the whistle goes,Or else you'll lose your quarter, goodness knows.''When can I see you, Anna? Tell me, dear.To-night? To-morrow? Shall I come to-night?'Jimmy, my friend, I cannot have you here;But when I come to town perhaps we might.Dear, you must go; no kissing; you can write,And I'll arrange a meeting when I learnWhat friends are doing' (meaning Shepherd Ern).'Good-bye, my own.' 'Dear Jim, you understand.If we were only free, dear, free to meet,Dear, I would take you by your big, strong handAnd kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet;But my dead husband lies under the sheet,Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one,So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done.But though my heart is buried in his graveSomething might be--friendship and utter trust--And you, my dear starved little Jim shall haveFlowers of friendship from my dead heart's dust;Life would be sweet if men would never lust.Why do you, Jimmy? Tell me sometime, dear,Why men are always what we women fear.Not now. Good-bye; we understand, we two,And life, O Jim, how glorious life is;This sunshine in my heart is due to you;I was so sad, and life has given this.I think "I wish I had something of his,"Do give me something, will you be so kind?Something to keep you always in my mind.'I will,' he said. 'Now go, or you'll be late.'He broke from her and ran, and never dreamtThat as she stood to watch him from the gateHer heart was half amusement, half contempt,Comparing Jim the squab, red and unkempt,In sweaty corduroys, with Shepherd Ern.She blew him kisses till he passed the turn.The whistle blew before he reached the line;The foreman asked him what the hell he meant,Whether a duke had asked him out to dine,Or if he thought the bag would pay his rent?And Jim was fined before the foreman went.But still his spirit glowed from Anna's words,Cooed in the voice so like a singing bird's.'O Anna, darling, you shall have a present;I'd give you golden gems if I were rich,And everything that's sweet and all that's pleasant.'He dropped his pick as though he had a stitch,And stared tow'rds Plaister's End, past Bushe's Pitch.O beauty, what I have to give I'll give,All mine is yours, beloved, while I live.'All through the afternoon his pick was slacking,His eyes were always turning west and south,The foreman was inclined to send him packing,But put it down to after fair-day drouth;He looked at Jimmy with an ugly mouth,And Jimmy slacked, and muttered in a moan,'My love, my beautiful, my very own.'So she had loved. Another man had had her;She had been his with passion in the night;An agony of envy made him sadder,Yet stabbed a pang of bitter-sweet delight--O he would keep his image of her white.The foreman cursed, stepped up, and asked him flatWhat kind of gum-tree he was gaping at.It was Jim's custom, when the pay day came,To take his weekly five and twenty shillingBack in the little packet to his dame;Not taking out a farthing for a filling,Nor twopence for a pot, for he was willingThat she should have it all to save or spend.But love makes many lovely customs end.Next pay day came and Jimmy took the money,But not to mother, for he meant to buyA thirteen-shilling locket for his honey,Whatever bellies hungered and went dry,A silver heart-shape with a ruby eye.He bought the thing and paid the shopman's price,And hurried off to make the sacrifice.'Is it for me? You dear, dear generous boy.How sweet of you. I'll wear it in my dress.When you're beside me life is such a joy,You bring the sun to solitariness.'She brushed his jacket with a light caress,His arms went round her fast, she yielded meek;He had the happiness to kiss her cheek.'My dear, my dear.' 'My very dear, my Jim,How very kind my Jimmy is to me;I ache to think that some are harsh to him;Not like my Jimmy, beautiful and free.My darling boy, how lovely it would beIf all would trust as we two trust each other.'And Jimmy's heart grew hard against his mother.She, poor old soul, was waiting in the gloomFor Jimmy's pay, that she could do the shopping.The clock ticked out a solemn tale of doom;Clogs on the bricks outside went clippa-clopping,The owls were coming out and dew was dropping.The bacon burnt, and Jimmy not yet home.The clock was ticking dooms out like a gnome.'What can have kept him that he doesn't come?O God, they'd tell me if he'd come to hurt.'The unknown, unseen evil struck her numb,She saw his body bloody in the dirt,She saw the life blood pumping through the shirt,She saw him tipsy in the navvies' booth,She saw all forms of evil but the truth.At last she hurried up the line to askIf Jim were hurt or why he wasn't back.She found the watchman wearing through his task;Over the fire basket in his shack;Behind, the new embankment rose up black.'Gurney?' he said. 'He'd got to see a friend.''Where?' 'I dunno. I think out Plaister's End.Thanking the man, she tottered down the hill,The long-feared fang had bitten to the bone.The brook beside her talked as water willThat it was lonely singing all alone,The night was lonely with the water's tone,And she was lonely to the very marrow.Love puts such bitter poison on Fate's arrow.She went the long way to them by the mills,She told herself that she must find her son.The night was ominous of many ills;The soughing larch-clump almost made her run,Her boots hurt (she had got a stone in one)And bitter beaks were tearing at her liverThat her boy's heart was turned from her forever.She kept the lane, past Spindle's, past the Callows',Her lips still muttering prayers against the worst,And there were people coming from the sallows,Along the wild duck patch by Beggar's Hurst.Being in moonlight mother saw them first,She saw them moving in the moonlight dim,A woman with a sweet voice saying 'Jim.'Trembling she grovelled down into the ditch,They wandered past her pressing side to side.'O Anna, my belov'd, if I were rich.'It was her son, and Anna's voice replied,'Dear boy, dear beauty boy, my love and pride.'And he: 'It's but a silver thing, but IWill earn you better lockets by and bye.''Dear boy, you mustn't.' 'But I mean to do.''What was that funny sort of noise I heard?''Where?' 'In the hedge; a sort of sob or coo.Listen. It's gone.' 'It may have been a bird.'Jim tossed a stone but mother never stirred.She hugged the hedgerow, choking down her pain,While the hot tears were blinding in her brain.The two passed on, the withered woman rose,For many minutes she could only shake,Staring ahead with trembling little 'Oh's,'The noise a very frightened child might make.'O God, dear God, don't let the woman takeMy little son, God, not my little Jim.O God, I'll have to starve if I lose him.'So back she trembled, nodding with her head,Laughing and trembling in the bursts of tears,Her ditch-filled boots both squelching in the tread,Her shopping-bonnet sagging to her ears,Her heart too dumb with brokenness for fears.The nightmare whickering with the laugh of deathCould not have added terror to her breath.She reached the house, and: 'I'm all right,' said she,'I'll just take off my things; but I'm all right,'I'd be all right with just a cup of tea,If I could only get this grate to light,The paper's damp and Jimmy's late to-night;"Belov'd, if I was rich," was what he said,O Jim, I wish that God would kill me dead.'While she was blinking at the unlit grate,Scratching the moistened match-heads off the wood,She heard Jim coming, so she reached his plate,And forked the over-frizzled scraps of food.'You're late,' she said, 'and this yer isn't good,Whatever makes you come in late like this?''I've been to Plaister's End, that's how it is.''You've been to Plaister's End?''Yes.''I've been stayingFor money for the shopping ever so.Down here we can't get victuals without paying,There's no trust down the Bye Street, as you know,And now it's dark and it's too late to go.You've been to Plaister's End. What took you there?''The lady who was with us at the fair.''The lady, eh? The lady?''Yes, the lady.''You've been to see her?''Yes.''What happened then?''I saw her.''Yes. And what filth did she trade ye?Or d'you expect your locket back agen?I know the rotten ways of whores with men.What did it cost ye?''What did what cost?''It.Your devil's penny for the devil's bit.''I don't know what you mean.''Jimmy, my own.Don't lie to mother, boy, for mother knows.I know you and that lady to the bone,And she's a whore, that thing you call a rose,A whore who takes whatever male thing goes;A harlot with the devil's skill to tellThe special key of each man's door to hell.''She's not. She's nothing of the kind, I tell'ee.''You can't tell women like a woman can;A beggar tells a lie to fill his belly,A strumpet tells a lie to win a man,Women were liars since the world began;And she's a liar, branded in the eyes,A rotten liar, who inspires lies.''I say she's not.''No, don't'ee Jim, my dearie,You've seen her often in the last few days,She's given a love as makes you come in wearyTo lie to me before going out to laze.She's tempted you into the devil's ways,She's robbing you, full fist, of what you earn,In God's name, what's she giving in return?''Her faith, my dear, and that's enough for me.''Her faith. Her faith. O Jimmy, listen, dear;Love doesn't ask for faith, my son, not he;He asks for life throughout the live-long year,And life's a test for any plough to ereLife tests a plough in meadows made of stones,Love takes a toll of spirit, mind and bones.I know a woman's portion when she loves,It's hers to give, my darling, not to take;It isn't lockets, dear, nor pairs of gloves,It isn't marriage bells nor wedding cake,It's up and cook, although the belly ache;And bear the child, and up and work again,And count a sick man's grumble worth the pain.Will she do this, and fifty times as much?''No. I don't ask her.''No. I warrant, no.She's one to get a young fool in her clutch,And you're a fool to let her trap you so.She love you? She? O Jimmy, let her go;I was so happy, dear, before she came,And now I'm going to the grave in shame.I bore you, Jimmy, in this very room.For fifteen years I got you all you had,You were my little son, made in my womb,Left all to me, for God had took your dad,You were a good son, doing all I bade,Until this strumpet came from God knows where,And now you lie, and I am in despair.Jimmy, I won't say more. I know you thinkThat I don't know, being just a withered old,With chaps all fallen in and eyes that blink,And hands that tremble so they cannot hold.A bag of bones to put in churchyard mould,A red-eyed hag beside your evening star.'And Jimmy gulped, and thought 'By God, you are.''Well, if I am, my dear, I don't pretend.I got my eyes red, Jimmy, making you.My dear, before our love time's at an endThink just a minute what it is you do.If this were right, my dear, you'd tell me true;You don't, and so it's wrong; you lie; and sheLies too, or else you wouldn't lie to me.Women and men have only got one wayAnd that way's marriage; other ways are lust.If you must marry this one, then you may,If not you'll drop her.''No.' 'I say you must.Or bring my hairs with sorrow to the dust.Marry your whore, you'll pay, and there an end.My God, you shall not have a whore for friend.By God, you shall not, not while I'm alive.Never, so help me God, shall that thing be.If she's a woman fit to touch she'll wive,If not she's whore, and she shall deal with me.And may God's blessed mercy help us seeAnd may He make my Jimmy count the cost,My little boy who's lost, as I am lost.'People in love cannot be won by kindness,And opposition makes them feel like martyrs.When folk are crazy with a drunken blindness,It's best to flog them with each other's garters,And have the flogging done by Shropshire carters,Born under Ercall where the while stones lie;Ercall that smells of honey in July.Jimmy said nothing in reply, but thoughtThat mother was an old, hard jealous thing.'I'll love my girl through good and ill report,I shall be true whatever grief it bring.'And in his heart he heard the death-bell ringFor mother's death, and thought what it would beTo bury her in churchyard and be free.He saw the narrow grave under the wall,Home without mother nagging at his dear,And Anna there with him at evenfall,Bidding him dry his eyes and be of cheer.'The death that took poor mother brings me near,Nearer than we have ever been before,Near as the dead one came, but dearer, more.''Good-night, my son,' said mother. 'Night,' he said.He dabbed her brow wi's lips and blew the light,She lay quite silent crying on the bed,Stirring no limb, but crying through the night.He slept, convinced that he was Anna's knight.And when he went to work he left behindMoney for mother crying herself blind.After that night he came to Anna's call,He was a fly in Anna's subtle weavings,Mother had no more share in him at all;All that the mother had was Anna's leavings.There were more lies, more lockets, more deceivings,Taunts from the proud old woman, lies from him,And Anna's coo of 'Cruel. Leave her, Jim.'Also the foreman spoke: 'You make me sick,You come-day-go-day-God-send-plenty-beer.You put less mizzle on your bit of Dick,Or get your time, I'll have no slackers here,I've had my eye on you too long, my dear.'And Jimmy pondered while the man attacked,'I'd see her all day long if I were sacked.'And trembling mother thought, 'I'll go to see'r.She'd give me back my boy if she were toldJust what he is to me, my pretty dear:She wouldn't leave me starving in the cold,Like what I am.' But she was weak and old.She thought, 'But if I ask her, I'm afraidHe'd hate me ever after,' so she stayed.IVBessie, the gipsy, got with child by Ern,She joined her tribe again at Shepherd's Meen,In that old quarry overgrown with fern,Where goats are tethered on the patch of green.There she reflected on the fool she'd been,And plaited kipes and waited for the bastard,And thought that love was glorious while it lasted.And Ern the moody man went moody home,To that most gentle girl from Ercall Hill,And bade her take a heed now he had come,Or else, by cripes, he'd put her through the mill.He didn't want her love, he'd had his fill,Thank you, of her, the bread and butter sack.And Anna heard that Shepherd Ern was back.'Back. And I'll have him back to me,' she muttered,'This lovesick boy of twenty, green as grass,Has made me wonder if my brains are buttered,He, and his lockets, and his love, the ass.I don't know why he comes. Alas! alas!God knows I want no love; but every sunI bolt my doors on some poor loving one.
Doubting, she stood the dishes in the rack,'We'll ask her in some evening, then,' she said,'How nice her hair looked in the bit of black.'And still she peered from eyes all dim and redTo note at once if Jimmy drooped his head,Or if his ears blushed when he heard her praised,And Jimmy blushed and hung his head and gazed.
Doubting, she stood the dishes in the rack,
'We'll ask her in some evening, then,' she said,
'How nice her hair looked in the bit of black.'
And still she peered from eyes all dim and red
To note at once if Jimmy drooped his head,
Or if his ears blushed when he heard her praised,
And Jimmy blushed and hung his head and gazed.
'This is the end,' she thought. 'This is the end.I'll have to sew again for Mr Jones,Do hems when I can hardly see to mend,And have the old ache in my marrow-bones.And when his wife's in child-bed, when she groans,She'll send for me until the pains have ceased,And give me leavings at the christening feast.
'This is the end,' she thought. 'This is the end.
I'll have to sew again for Mr Jones,
Do hems when I can hardly see to mend,
And have the old ache in my marrow-bones.
And when his wife's in child-bed, when she groans,
She'll send for me until the pains have ceased,
And give me leavings at the christening feast.
And sit aslant to eye me as I eat,"You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day,Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat,Don't ever think I mean to let you stay;Two's company, three's none, that's what I say."Life can be bitter to the very boneWhen one is poor, and woman, and alone.
And sit aslant to eye me as I eat,
"You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day,
Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat,
Don't ever think I mean to let you stay;
Two's company, three's none, that's what I say."
Life can be bitter to the very bone
When one is poor, and woman, and alone.
'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear,Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,'And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear,'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head.'His name was little Binger.' 'Jim,' she said,'Binger, now, chorus' ... Jimmy kicked the hob,The sacrament of song died in a sob.
'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear,
Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,'
And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear,
'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head.
'His name was little Binger.' 'Jim,' she said,
'Binger, now, chorus' ... Jimmy kicked the hob,
The sacrament of song died in a sob.
Jimmy went out into the night to thinkUnder the moon so steady in the blue.The woman's beauty ran in him like drink,The fear that men had loved her burnt him through;The fear that even then another knewAll the deep mystery which women makeTo hide the inner nothing made him shake.
Jimmy went out into the night to think
Under the moon so steady in the blue.
The woman's beauty ran in him like drink,
The fear that men had loved her burnt him through;
The fear that even then another knew
All the deep mystery which women make
To hide the inner nothing made him shake.
'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.'He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills.A white star glimmered in the long canal,A droning from the music came in thrills.Love is a flame to burn out human wills,Love is a flame to set the will on fire,Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.
'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.'
He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills.
A white star glimmered in the long canal,
A droning from the music came in thrills.
Love is a flame to burn out human wills,
Love is a flame to set the will on fire,
Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.
One of the three, we make Love what we choose,But Jimmy did not know, he only thoughtThat Anna was too beautiful to lose,That she was all the world and he was naught,That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught.'Anna, I love you.' Underneath the moon,'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.'
One of the three, we make Love what we choose,
But Jimmy did not know, he only thought
That Anna was too beautiful to lose,
That she was all the world and he was naught,
That it was sweet, though bitter, to be caught.
'Anna, I love you.' Underneath the moon,
'I shall go mad unless I see you soon.'
The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow.The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel,The rifles cease, the folk begin to go,The hands unclamp the swing-boats from the wheel,There is a smell of trodden orange peel;The organ drones and dies, the horses stop,And then the tent collapses from the top.
The fair's lights threw aloft a misty glow.
The organ whangs, the giddy horses reel,
The rifles cease, the folk begin to go,
The hands unclamp the swing-boats from the wheel,
There is a smell of trodden orange peel;
The organ drones and dies, the horses stop,
And then the tent collapses from the top.
The fair is over, let the people troop,The drunkards stagger homewards down the gutters,The showmen heave in an excited group,The poles tilt slowly down, the canvas flutters,The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters.'Lower away.' 'Go easy.' 'Lower, lower.''You've dang near knock my skull in. Loose it slower.'
The fair is over, let the people troop,
The drunkards stagger homewards down the gutters,
The showmen heave in an excited group,
The poles tilt slowly down, the canvas flutters,
The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters.
'Lower away.' 'Go easy.' 'Lower, lower.'
'You've dang near knock my skull in. Loose it slower.'
'Back in the horses.' 'Are the swing-boats loaded?''All right to start.' 'Bill, where's the cushion gone?The red one for the Queen?' 'I think I stowed it.''You think, you think. Lord, where's that cushion, John?''It's in that bloody box you're sitting on,What more d'you want?' A concertina playsFar off as wandering lovers go their ways.
'Back in the horses.' 'Are the swing-boats loaded?'
'All right to start.' 'Bill, where's the cushion gone?
The red one for the Queen?' 'I think I stowed it.'
'You think, you think. Lord, where's that cushion, John?'
'It's in that bloody box you're sitting on,
What more d'you want?' A concertina plays
Far off as wandering lovers go their ways.
Up the dim Bye Street to the market-placeThe dead bones of the fair are borne in carts,Horses and swing-boats at a funeral paceAfter triumphant hours quickening hearts;A policeman eyes each waggon as it starts,The drowsy showmen stumble half asleep,One of them catcalls, having drunken deep.
Up the dim Bye Street to the market-place
The dead bones of the fair are borne in carts,
Horses and swing-boats at a funeral pace
After triumphant hours quickening hearts;
A policeman eyes each waggon as it starts,
The drowsy showmen stumble half asleep,
One of them catcalls, having drunken deep.
So out, over the pass, into the plain,And the dawn finds them filling empty cansIn some sweet-smelling dusty country lane,Where a brook chatters over rusty pans.The iron chimneys of the caravansSmoke as they go. And now the fair has goneTo find a new pitch somewhere further on.
So out, over the pass, into the plain,
And the dawn finds them filling empty cans
In some sweet-smelling dusty country lane,
Where a brook chatters over rusty pans.
The iron chimneys of the caravans
Smoke as they go. And now the fair has gone
To find a new pitch somewhere further on.
But as the fair moved out two lovers came,Ernie and Bessie loitering out together;Bessie with wild eyes, hungry as a flame,Ern like a stallion tugging at a tether.It was calm moonlight, and October weather,So still, so lovely, as they topped the ridge.They brushed by Jimmy standing on the bridge.
But as the fair moved out two lovers came,
Ernie and Bessie loitering out together;
Bessie with wild eyes, hungry as a flame,
Ern like a stallion tugging at a tether.
It was calm moonlight, and October weather,
So still, so lovely, as they topped the ridge.
They brushed by Jimmy standing on the bridge.
And, as they passed, they gravely eyed each other,And the blood burned in each heart beating there;And out into the Bye Street tottered mother,Without her shawl, in the October air.'Jimmy,' she cried, 'Jimmy.' And Bessie's hairDrooped on the instant over Ernie's face,And the two lovers clung in an embrace.
And, as they passed, they gravely eyed each other,
And the blood burned in each heart beating there;
And out into the Bye Street tottered mother,
Without her shawl, in the October air.
'Jimmy,' she cried, 'Jimmy.' And Bessie's hair
Drooped on the instant over Ernie's face,
And the two lovers clung in an embrace.
'O, Ern.' 'My own, my Bessie.' As they kissedJimmy was envious of the thing unknown.So this was Love, the something he had missed,Woman and man athirst, aflame, alone.Envy went knocking at his marrow-bone,And Anna's face swam up so dim, so fair,Shining and sweet, with poppies in her hair.
'O, Ern.' 'My own, my Bessie.' As they kissed
Jimmy was envious of the thing unknown.
So this was Love, the something he had missed,
Woman and man athirst, aflame, alone.
Envy went knocking at his marrow-bone,
And Anna's face swam up so dim, so fair,
Shining and sweet, with poppies in her hair.
III
After the fair, the gang began again.Tipping the trollies down the banks of earth.The truck of stone clanks on the endless chain,A clever pony guides it to its berth.'Let go.' It tips, the navvies shout for mirthTo see the pony step aside, so wise,But Jimmy sighed, thinking of Anna's eyes.
After the fair, the gang began again.
Tipping the trollies down the banks of earth.
The truck of stone clanks on the endless chain,
A clever pony guides it to its berth.
'Let go.' It tips, the navvies shout for mirth
To see the pony step aside, so wise,
But Jimmy sighed, thinking of Anna's eyes.
And when he stopped his shovelling he lookedOver the junipers towards Plaister way,The beauty of his darling had him hooked,He had no heart for wrastling with the clay.'O Lord Almighty, I must get away;O Lord, I must. I must just see my flower,Why, I could run there in the dinner hour.'
And when he stopped his shovelling he looked
Over the junipers towards Plaister way,
The beauty of his darling had him hooked,
He had no heart for wrastling with the clay.
'O Lord Almighty, I must get away;
O Lord, I must. I must just see my flower,
Why, I could run there in the dinner hour.'
The whistle on the pilot engine blew,The men knocked off, and Jimmy slipped asideOver the fence, over the bridge, and through,And then ahead along the water-side,Under the red-brick rail-bridge, arching wide,Over the hedge, across the fields, and on;The foreman asked: 'Where's Jimmy Gurney gone?'
The whistle on the pilot engine blew,
The men knocked off, and Jimmy slipped aside
Over the fence, over the bridge, and through,
And then ahead along the water-side,
Under the red-brick rail-bridge, arching wide,
Over the hedge, across the fields, and on;
The foreman asked: 'Where's Jimmy Gurney gone?'
It is a mile and more to Plaister's End,But Jimmy ran the short way by the stream,And there was Anna's cottage at the bend,With blue smoke on the chimney, faint as steam.'God, she's at home,' and up his heart a gleamLeapt like a rocket on November nights,And shattered slowly in a burst of lights.
It is a mile and more to Plaister's End,
But Jimmy ran the short way by the stream,
And there was Anna's cottage at the bend,
With blue smoke on the chimney, faint as steam.
'God, she's at home,' and up his heart a gleam
Leapt like a rocket on November nights,
And shattered slowly in a burst of lights.
Anna was singing at her kitchen fire,She was surprised, and not well pleased to seeA sweating navvy, red with heat and mire,Come to her door, whoever he might be.But when she saw that it was Jimmy, sheSmiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain,And thought, 'But, still, he mustn't come again.
Anna was singing at her kitchen fire,
She was surprised, and not well pleased to see
A sweating navvy, red with heat and mire,
Come to her door, whoever he might be.
But when she saw that it was Jimmy, she
Smiled at his eyes upon her, full of pain,
And thought, 'But, still, he mustn't come again.
People will talk; boys are such crazy things;But he's a dear boy though he is so green.'So, hurriedly, she slipped her apron strings,And dabbed her hair, and wiped her fingers clean,And came to greet him languid as a queen,Looking as sweet, as fair, as pure, as sad,As when she drove her loving husband mad.
People will talk; boys are such crazy things;
But he's a dear boy though he is so green.'
So, hurriedly, she slipped her apron strings,
And dabbed her hair, and wiped her fingers clean,
And came to greet him languid as a queen,
Looking as sweet, as fair, as pure, as sad,
As when she drove her loving husband mad.
'Poor boy,' she said, 'Poor boy, how hot you are.'She laid a cool hand to his sweating face.'How kind to come. Have you been running far?I'm just going out; come up the road a pace.O dear, these hens; they're all about the place.'So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command,And got outside the gate as she had planned.
'Poor boy,' she said, 'Poor boy, how hot you are.'
She laid a cool hand to his sweating face.
'How kind to come. Have you been running far?
I'm just going out; come up the road a pace.
O dear, these hens; they're all about the place.'
So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command,
And got outside the gate as she had planned.
'Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true;I had to come--I don't know--I can't rest--I lay awake all night, thinking of you.Many must love you, but I love you best.''Many have loved me, yes, dear,' she confessed,She smiled upon him with a tender pride,'But my love ended when my husband died.
'Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true;
I had to come--I don't know--I can't rest--
I lay awake all night, thinking of you.
Many must love you, but I love you best.'
'Many have loved me, yes, dear,' she confessed,
She smiled upon him with a tender pride,
'But my love ended when my husband died.
Still, we'll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends;Love with its fever's at an end for me.Be by me gently now the fever ends,Life is a lovelier thing than lovers see,I'd like to trust a man, Jimmy,' said she,'May I trust you?' 'Oh, Anna dear, my dear----'Don't come so close,' she said, 'with people near.
Still, we'll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends;
Love with its fever's at an end for me.
Be by me gently now the fever ends,
Life is a lovelier thing than lovers see,
I'd like to trust a man, Jimmy,' said she,
'May I trust you?' 'Oh, Anna dear, my dear----
'Don't come so close,' she said, 'with people near.
Dear, don't be vexed; it's very sweet to findOne who will understand; but life is life,And those who do not know are so unkind.But you'll be by me, Jimmy, in the strife,I love you though I cannot be your wife;And now be off, before the whistle goes,Or else you'll lose your quarter, goodness knows.'
Dear, don't be vexed; it's very sweet to find
One who will understand; but life is life,
And those who do not know are so unkind.
But you'll be by me, Jimmy, in the strife,
I love you though I cannot be your wife;
And now be off, before the whistle goes,
Or else you'll lose your quarter, goodness knows.'
'When can I see you, Anna? Tell me, dear.To-night? To-morrow? Shall I come to-night?'Jimmy, my friend, I cannot have you here;But when I come to town perhaps we might.Dear, you must go; no kissing; you can write,And I'll arrange a meeting when I learnWhat friends are doing' (meaning Shepherd Ern).
'When can I see you, Anna? Tell me, dear.
To-night? To-morrow? Shall I come to-night?
'Jimmy, my friend, I cannot have you here;
But when I come to town perhaps we might.
Dear, you must go; no kissing; you can write,
And I'll arrange a meeting when I learn
What friends are doing' (meaning Shepherd Ern).
'Good-bye, my own.' 'Dear Jim, you understand.If we were only free, dear, free to meet,Dear, I would take you by your big, strong handAnd kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet;But my dead husband lies under the sheet,Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one,So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done.
'Good-bye, my own.' 'Dear Jim, you understand.
If we were only free, dear, free to meet,
Dear, I would take you by your big, strong hand
And kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet;
But my dead husband lies under the sheet,
Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one,
So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done.
But though my heart is buried in his graveSomething might be--friendship and utter trust--And you, my dear starved little Jim shall haveFlowers of friendship from my dead heart's dust;Life would be sweet if men would never lust.Why do you, Jimmy? Tell me sometime, dear,Why men are always what we women fear.
But though my heart is buried in his grave
Something might be--friendship and utter trust--
And you, my dear starved little Jim shall have
Flowers of friendship from my dead heart's dust;
Life would be sweet if men would never lust.
Why do you, Jimmy? Tell me sometime, dear,
Why men are always what we women fear.
Not now. Good-bye; we understand, we two,And life, O Jim, how glorious life is;This sunshine in my heart is due to you;I was so sad, and life has given this.I think "I wish I had something of his,"Do give me something, will you be so kind?Something to keep you always in my mind.
Not now. Good-bye; we understand, we two,
And life, O Jim, how glorious life is;
This sunshine in my heart is due to you;
I was so sad, and life has given this.
I think "I wish I had something of his,"
Do give me something, will you be so kind?
Something to keep you always in my mind.
'I will,' he said. 'Now go, or you'll be late.'He broke from her and ran, and never dreamtThat as she stood to watch him from the gateHer heart was half amusement, half contempt,Comparing Jim the squab, red and unkempt,In sweaty corduroys, with Shepherd Ern.She blew him kisses till he passed the turn.
'I will,' he said. 'Now go, or you'll be late.'
He broke from her and ran, and never dreamt
That as she stood to watch him from the gate
Her heart was half amusement, half contempt,
Comparing Jim the squab, red and unkempt,
In sweaty corduroys, with Shepherd Ern.
She blew him kisses till he passed the turn.
The whistle blew before he reached the line;The foreman asked him what the hell he meant,Whether a duke had asked him out to dine,Or if he thought the bag would pay his rent?And Jim was fined before the foreman went.But still his spirit glowed from Anna's words,Cooed in the voice so like a singing bird's.
The whistle blew before he reached the line;
The foreman asked him what the hell he meant,
Whether a duke had asked him out to dine,
Or if he thought the bag would pay his rent?
And Jim was fined before the foreman went.
But still his spirit glowed from Anna's words,
Cooed in the voice so like a singing bird's.
'O Anna, darling, you shall have a present;I'd give you golden gems if I were rich,And everything that's sweet and all that's pleasant.'He dropped his pick as though he had a stitch,And stared tow'rds Plaister's End, past Bushe's Pitch.O beauty, what I have to give I'll give,All mine is yours, beloved, while I live.'
'O Anna, darling, you shall have a present;
I'd give you golden gems if I were rich,
And everything that's sweet and all that's pleasant.'
He dropped his pick as though he had a stitch,
And stared tow'rds Plaister's End, past Bushe's Pitch.
O beauty, what I have to give I'll give,
All mine is yours, beloved, while I live.'
All through the afternoon his pick was slacking,His eyes were always turning west and south,The foreman was inclined to send him packing,But put it down to after fair-day drouth;He looked at Jimmy with an ugly mouth,And Jimmy slacked, and muttered in a moan,'My love, my beautiful, my very own.'
All through the afternoon his pick was slacking,
His eyes were always turning west and south,
The foreman was inclined to send him packing,
But put it down to after fair-day drouth;
He looked at Jimmy with an ugly mouth,
And Jimmy slacked, and muttered in a moan,
'My love, my beautiful, my very own.'
So she had loved. Another man had had her;She had been his with passion in the night;An agony of envy made him sadder,Yet stabbed a pang of bitter-sweet delight--O he would keep his image of her white.The foreman cursed, stepped up, and asked him flatWhat kind of gum-tree he was gaping at.
So she had loved. Another man had had her;
She had been his with passion in the night;
An agony of envy made him sadder,
Yet stabbed a pang of bitter-sweet delight--
O he would keep his image of her white.
The foreman cursed, stepped up, and asked him flat
What kind of gum-tree he was gaping at.
It was Jim's custom, when the pay day came,To take his weekly five and twenty shillingBack in the little packet to his dame;Not taking out a farthing for a filling,Nor twopence for a pot, for he was willingThat she should have it all to save or spend.But love makes many lovely customs end.
It was Jim's custom, when the pay day came,
To take his weekly five and twenty shilling
Back in the little packet to his dame;
Not taking out a farthing for a filling,
Nor twopence for a pot, for he was willing
That she should have it all to save or spend.
But love makes many lovely customs end.
Next pay day came and Jimmy took the money,But not to mother, for he meant to buyA thirteen-shilling locket for his honey,Whatever bellies hungered and went dry,A silver heart-shape with a ruby eye.He bought the thing and paid the shopman's price,And hurried off to make the sacrifice.
Next pay day came and Jimmy took the money,
But not to mother, for he meant to buy
A thirteen-shilling locket for his honey,
Whatever bellies hungered and went dry,
A silver heart-shape with a ruby eye.
He bought the thing and paid the shopman's price,
And hurried off to make the sacrifice.
'Is it for me? You dear, dear generous boy.How sweet of you. I'll wear it in my dress.When you're beside me life is such a joy,You bring the sun to solitariness.'She brushed his jacket with a light caress,His arms went round her fast, she yielded meek;He had the happiness to kiss her cheek.
'Is it for me? You dear, dear generous boy.
How sweet of you. I'll wear it in my dress.
When you're beside me life is such a joy,
You bring the sun to solitariness.'
She brushed his jacket with a light caress,
His arms went round her fast, she yielded meek;
He had the happiness to kiss her cheek.
'My dear, my dear.' 'My very dear, my Jim,How very kind my Jimmy is to me;I ache to think that some are harsh to him;Not like my Jimmy, beautiful and free.My darling boy, how lovely it would beIf all would trust as we two trust each other.'And Jimmy's heart grew hard against his mother.
'My dear, my dear.' 'My very dear, my Jim,
How very kind my Jimmy is to me;
I ache to think that some are harsh to him;
Not like my Jimmy, beautiful and free.
My darling boy, how lovely it would be
If all would trust as we two trust each other.'
And Jimmy's heart grew hard against his mother.
She, poor old soul, was waiting in the gloomFor Jimmy's pay, that she could do the shopping.The clock ticked out a solemn tale of doom;Clogs on the bricks outside went clippa-clopping,The owls were coming out and dew was dropping.The bacon burnt, and Jimmy not yet home.The clock was ticking dooms out like a gnome.
She, poor old soul, was waiting in the gloom
For Jimmy's pay, that she could do the shopping.
The clock ticked out a solemn tale of doom;
Clogs on the bricks outside went clippa-clopping,
The owls were coming out and dew was dropping.
The bacon burnt, and Jimmy not yet home.
The clock was ticking dooms out like a gnome.
'What can have kept him that he doesn't come?O God, they'd tell me if he'd come to hurt.'The unknown, unseen evil struck her numb,She saw his body bloody in the dirt,She saw the life blood pumping through the shirt,She saw him tipsy in the navvies' booth,She saw all forms of evil but the truth.
'What can have kept him that he doesn't come?
O God, they'd tell me if he'd come to hurt.'
The unknown, unseen evil struck her numb,
She saw his body bloody in the dirt,
She saw the life blood pumping through the shirt,
She saw him tipsy in the navvies' booth,
She saw all forms of evil but the truth.
At last she hurried up the line to askIf Jim were hurt or why he wasn't back.She found the watchman wearing through his task;Over the fire basket in his shack;Behind, the new embankment rose up black.'Gurney?' he said. 'He'd got to see a friend.''Where?' 'I dunno. I think out Plaister's End.
At last she hurried up the line to ask
If Jim were hurt or why he wasn't back.
She found the watchman wearing through his task;
Over the fire basket in his shack;
Behind, the new embankment rose up black.
'Gurney?' he said. 'He'd got to see a friend.'
'Where?' 'I dunno. I think out Plaister's End.
Thanking the man, she tottered down the hill,The long-feared fang had bitten to the bone.The brook beside her talked as water willThat it was lonely singing all alone,The night was lonely with the water's tone,And she was lonely to the very marrow.Love puts such bitter poison on Fate's arrow.
Thanking the man, she tottered down the hill,
The long-feared fang had bitten to the bone.
The brook beside her talked as water will
That it was lonely singing all alone,
The night was lonely with the water's tone,
And she was lonely to the very marrow.
Love puts such bitter poison on Fate's arrow.
She went the long way to them by the mills,She told herself that she must find her son.The night was ominous of many ills;The soughing larch-clump almost made her run,Her boots hurt (she had got a stone in one)And bitter beaks were tearing at her liverThat her boy's heart was turned from her forever.
She went the long way to them by the mills,
She told herself that she must find her son.
The night was ominous of many ills;
The soughing larch-clump almost made her run,
Her boots hurt (she had got a stone in one)
And bitter beaks were tearing at her liver
That her boy's heart was turned from her forever.
She kept the lane, past Spindle's, past the Callows',Her lips still muttering prayers against the worst,And there were people coming from the sallows,Along the wild duck patch by Beggar's Hurst.Being in moonlight mother saw them first,She saw them moving in the moonlight dim,A woman with a sweet voice saying 'Jim.'
She kept the lane, past Spindle's, past the Callows',
Her lips still muttering prayers against the worst,
And there were people coming from the sallows,
Along the wild duck patch by Beggar's Hurst.
Being in moonlight mother saw them first,
She saw them moving in the moonlight dim,
A woman with a sweet voice saying 'Jim.'
Trembling she grovelled down into the ditch,They wandered past her pressing side to side.'O Anna, my belov'd, if I were rich.'It was her son, and Anna's voice replied,'Dear boy, dear beauty boy, my love and pride.'And he: 'It's but a silver thing, but IWill earn you better lockets by and bye.'
Trembling she grovelled down into the ditch,
They wandered past her pressing side to side.
'O Anna, my belov'd, if I were rich.'
It was her son, and Anna's voice replied,
'Dear boy, dear beauty boy, my love and pride.'
And he: 'It's but a silver thing, but I
Will earn you better lockets by and bye.'
'Dear boy, you mustn't.' 'But I mean to do.''What was that funny sort of noise I heard?''Where?' 'In the hedge; a sort of sob or coo.Listen. It's gone.' 'It may have been a bird.'Jim tossed a stone but mother never stirred.She hugged the hedgerow, choking down her pain,While the hot tears were blinding in her brain.
'Dear boy, you mustn't.' 'But I mean to do.'
'What was that funny sort of noise I heard?'
'Where?' 'In the hedge; a sort of sob or coo.
Listen. It's gone.' 'It may have been a bird.'
Jim tossed a stone but mother never stirred.
She hugged the hedgerow, choking down her pain,
While the hot tears were blinding in her brain.
The two passed on, the withered woman rose,For many minutes she could only shake,Staring ahead with trembling little 'Oh's,'The noise a very frightened child might make.'O God, dear God, don't let the woman takeMy little son, God, not my little Jim.O God, I'll have to starve if I lose him.'
The two passed on, the withered woman rose,
For many minutes she could only shake,
Staring ahead with trembling little 'Oh's,'
The noise a very frightened child might make.
'O God, dear God, don't let the woman take
My little son, God, not my little Jim.
O God, I'll have to starve if I lose him.'
So back she trembled, nodding with her head,Laughing and trembling in the bursts of tears,Her ditch-filled boots both squelching in the tread,Her shopping-bonnet sagging to her ears,Her heart too dumb with brokenness for fears.The nightmare whickering with the laugh of deathCould not have added terror to her breath.
So back she trembled, nodding with her head,
Laughing and trembling in the bursts of tears,
Her ditch-filled boots both squelching in the tread,
Her shopping-bonnet sagging to her ears,
Her heart too dumb with brokenness for fears.
The nightmare whickering with the laugh of death
Could not have added terror to her breath.
She reached the house, and: 'I'm all right,' said she,'I'll just take off my things; but I'm all right,'I'd be all right with just a cup of tea,If I could only get this grate to light,The paper's damp and Jimmy's late to-night;"Belov'd, if I was rich," was what he said,O Jim, I wish that God would kill me dead.'
She reached the house, and: 'I'm all right,' said she,
'I'll just take off my things; but I'm all right,
'I'd be all right with just a cup of tea,
If I could only get this grate to light,
The paper's damp and Jimmy's late to-night;
"Belov'd, if I was rich," was what he said,
O Jim, I wish that God would kill me dead.'
While she was blinking at the unlit grate,Scratching the moistened match-heads off the wood,She heard Jim coming, so she reached his plate,And forked the over-frizzled scraps of food.'You're late,' she said, 'and this yer isn't good,Whatever makes you come in late like this?''I've been to Plaister's End, that's how it is.'
While she was blinking at the unlit grate,
Scratching the moistened match-heads off the wood,
She heard Jim coming, so she reached his plate,
And forked the over-frizzled scraps of food.
'You're late,' she said, 'and this yer isn't good,
Whatever makes you come in late like this?'
'I've been to Plaister's End, that's how it is.'
'You've been to Plaister's End?''Yes.''I've been stayingFor money for the shopping ever so.Down here we can't get victuals without paying,There's no trust down the Bye Street, as you know,And now it's dark and it's too late to go.You've been to Plaister's End. What took you there?''The lady who was with us at the fair.'
'You've been to Plaister's End?'
'Yes.''I've been staying
'Yes.'
'I've been staying
'I've been staying
For money for the shopping ever so.
Down here we can't get victuals without paying,
There's no trust down the Bye Street, as you know,
And now it's dark and it's too late to go.
You've been to Plaister's End. What took you there?'
'The lady who was with us at the fair.'
'The lady, eh? The lady?''Yes, the lady.''You've been to see her?''Yes.''What happened then?''I saw her.''Yes. And what filth did she trade ye?Or d'you expect your locket back agen?I know the rotten ways of whores with men.What did it cost ye?''What did what cost?''It.Your devil's penny for the devil's bit.'
'The lady, eh? The lady?'
'Yes, the lady.'
'Yes, the lady.'
'Yes, the lady.'
'Yes, the lady.'
'Yes, the lady.'
'You've been to see her?'
'Yes.''What happened then?'
'Yes.''What happened then?'
'Yes.''What happened then?'
'Yes.'
'What happened then?'
'What happened then?'
'What happened then?'
'I saw her.'
'Yes. And what filth did she trade ye?
'Yes. And what filth did she trade ye?
Or d'you expect your locket back agen?
I know the rotten ways of whores with men.
What did it cost ye?'
'What did what cost?''It.
'What did what cost?''It.
'What did what cost?'
'It.
'It.
'It.
'It.
'It.
Your devil's penny for the devil's bit.'
'I don't know what you mean.''Jimmy, my own.Don't lie to mother, boy, for mother knows.I know you and that lady to the bone,And she's a whore, that thing you call a rose,A whore who takes whatever male thing goes;A harlot with the devil's skill to tellThe special key of each man's door to hell.'
'I don't know what you mean.'
'Jimmy, my own.
'Jimmy, my own.
Don't lie to mother, boy, for mother knows.
I know you and that lady to the bone,
And she's a whore, that thing you call a rose,
A whore who takes whatever male thing goes;
A harlot with the devil's skill to tell
The special key of each man's door to hell.'
'She's not. She's nothing of the kind, I tell'ee.''You can't tell women like a woman can;A beggar tells a lie to fill his belly,A strumpet tells a lie to win a man,Women were liars since the world began;And she's a liar, branded in the eyes,A rotten liar, who inspires lies.'
'She's not. She's nothing of the kind, I tell'ee.'
'You can't tell women like a woman can;
A beggar tells a lie to fill his belly,
A strumpet tells a lie to win a man,
Women were liars since the world began;
And she's a liar, branded in the eyes,
A rotten liar, who inspires lies.'
'I say she's not.''No, don't'ee Jim, my dearie,You've seen her often in the last few days,She's given a love as makes you come in wearyTo lie to me before going out to laze.She's tempted you into the devil's ways,She's robbing you, full fist, of what you earn,In God's name, what's she giving in return?'
'I say she's not.'
'No, don't'ee Jim, my dearie,
'No, don't'ee Jim, my dearie,
You've seen her often in the last few days,
She's given a love as makes you come in weary
To lie to me before going out to laze.
She's tempted you into the devil's ways,
She's robbing you, full fist, of what you earn,
In God's name, what's she giving in return?'
'Her faith, my dear, and that's enough for me.''Her faith. Her faith. O Jimmy, listen, dear;Love doesn't ask for faith, my son, not he;He asks for life throughout the live-long year,And life's a test for any plough to ereLife tests a plough in meadows made of stones,Love takes a toll of spirit, mind and bones.
'Her faith, my dear, and that's enough for me.'
'Her faith. Her faith. O Jimmy, listen, dear;
Love doesn't ask for faith, my son, not he;
He asks for life throughout the live-long year,
And life's a test for any plough to ere
Life tests a plough in meadows made of stones,
Love takes a toll of spirit, mind and bones.
I know a woman's portion when she loves,It's hers to give, my darling, not to take;It isn't lockets, dear, nor pairs of gloves,It isn't marriage bells nor wedding cake,It's up and cook, although the belly ache;And bear the child, and up and work again,And count a sick man's grumble worth the pain.
I know a woman's portion when she loves,
It's hers to give, my darling, not to take;
It isn't lockets, dear, nor pairs of gloves,
It isn't marriage bells nor wedding cake,
It's up and cook, although the belly ache;
And bear the child, and up and work again,
And count a sick man's grumble worth the pain.
Will she do this, and fifty times as much?''No. I don't ask her.''No. I warrant, no.She's one to get a young fool in her clutch,And you're a fool to let her trap you so.She love you? She? O Jimmy, let her go;I was so happy, dear, before she came,And now I'm going to the grave in shame.
Will she do this, and fifty times as much?'
'No. I don't ask her.'
'No. I warrant, no.
'No. I warrant, no.
She's one to get a young fool in her clutch,
And you're a fool to let her trap you so.
She love you? She? O Jimmy, let her go;
I was so happy, dear, before she came,
And now I'm going to the grave in shame.
I bore you, Jimmy, in this very room.For fifteen years I got you all you had,You were my little son, made in my womb,Left all to me, for God had took your dad,You were a good son, doing all I bade,Until this strumpet came from God knows where,And now you lie, and I am in despair.
I bore you, Jimmy, in this very room.
For fifteen years I got you all you had,
You were my little son, made in my womb,
Left all to me, for God had took your dad,
You were a good son, doing all I bade,
Until this strumpet came from God knows where,
And now you lie, and I am in despair.
Jimmy, I won't say more. I know you thinkThat I don't know, being just a withered old,With chaps all fallen in and eyes that blink,And hands that tremble so they cannot hold.A bag of bones to put in churchyard mould,A red-eyed hag beside your evening star.'And Jimmy gulped, and thought 'By God, you are.'
Jimmy, I won't say more. I know you think
That I don't know, being just a withered old,
With chaps all fallen in and eyes that blink,
And hands that tremble so they cannot hold.
A bag of bones to put in churchyard mould,
A red-eyed hag beside your evening star.'
And Jimmy gulped, and thought 'By God, you are.'
'Well, if I am, my dear, I don't pretend.I got my eyes red, Jimmy, making you.My dear, before our love time's at an endThink just a minute what it is you do.If this were right, my dear, you'd tell me true;You don't, and so it's wrong; you lie; and sheLies too, or else you wouldn't lie to me.
'Well, if I am, my dear, I don't pretend.
I got my eyes red, Jimmy, making you.
My dear, before our love time's at an end
Think just a minute what it is you do.
If this were right, my dear, you'd tell me true;
You don't, and so it's wrong; you lie; and she
Lies too, or else you wouldn't lie to me.
Women and men have only got one wayAnd that way's marriage; other ways are lust.If you must marry this one, then you may,If not you'll drop her.''No.' 'I say you must.Or bring my hairs with sorrow to the dust.Marry your whore, you'll pay, and there an end.My God, you shall not have a whore for friend.
Women and men have only got one way
And that way's marriage; other ways are lust.
If you must marry this one, then you may,
If not you'll drop her.'
'No.' 'I say you must.
'No.' 'I say you must.
Or bring my hairs with sorrow to the dust.
Marry your whore, you'll pay, and there an end.
My God, you shall not have a whore for friend.
By God, you shall not, not while I'm alive.Never, so help me God, shall that thing be.If she's a woman fit to touch she'll wive,If not she's whore, and she shall deal with me.And may God's blessed mercy help us seeAnd may He make my Jimmy count the cost,My little boy who's lost, as I am lost.'
By God, you shall not, not while I'm alive.
Never, so help me God, shall that thing be.
If she's a woman fit to touch she'll wive,
If not she's whore, and she shall deal with me.
And may God's blessed mercy help us see
And may He make my Jimmy count the cost,
My little boy who's lost, as I am lost.'
People in love cannot be won by kindness,And opposition makes them feel like martyrs.When folk are crazy with a drunken blindness,It's best to flog them with each other's garters,And have the flogging done by Shropshire carters,Born under Ercall where the while stones lie;Ercall that smells of honey in July.
People in love cannot be won by kindness,
And opposition makes them feel like martyrs.
When folk are crazy with a drunken blindness,
It's best to flog them with each other's garters,
And have the flogging done by Shropshire carters,
Born under Ercall where the while stones lie;
Ercall that smells of honey in July.
Jimmy said nothing in reply, but thoughtThat mother was an old, hard jealous thing.'I'll love my girl through good and ill report,I shall be true whatever grief it bring.'And in his heart he heard the death-bell ringFor mother's death, and thought what it would beTo bury her in churchyard and be free.
Jimmy said nothing in reply, but thought
That mother was an old, hard jealous thing.
'I'll love my girl through good and ill report,
I shall be true whatever grief it bring.'
And in his heart he heard the death-bell ring
For mother's death, and thought what it would be
To bury her in churchyard and be free.
He saw the narrow grave under the wall,Home without mother nagging at his dear,And Anna there with him at evenfall,Bidding him dry his eyes and be of cheer.'The death that took poor mother brings me near,Nearer than we have ever been before,Near as the dead one came, but dearer, more.'
He saw the narrow grave under the wall,
Home without mother nagging at his dear,
And Anna there with him at evenfall,
Bidding him dry his eyes and be of cheer.
'The death that took poor mother brings me near,
Nearer than we have ever been before,
Near as the dead one came, but dearer, more.'
'Good-night, my son,' said mother. 'Night,' he said.He dabbed her brow wi's lips and blew the light,She lay quite silent crying on the bed,Stirring no limb, but crying through the night.He slept, convinced that he was Anna's knight.And when he went to work he left behindMoney for mother crying herself blind.
'Good-night, my son,' said mother. 'Night,' he said.
He dabbed her brow wi's lips and blew the light,
She lay quite silent crying on the bed,
Stirring no limb, but crying through the night.
He slept, convinced that he was Anna's knight.
And when he went to work he left behind
Money for mother crying herself blind.
After that night he came to Anna's call,He was a fly in Anna's subtle weavings,Mother had no more share in him at all;All that the mother had was Anna's leavings.There were more lies, more lockets, more deceivings,Taunts from the proud old woman, lies from him,And Anna's coo of 'Cruel. Leave her, Jim.'
After that night he came to Anna's call,
He was a fly in Anna's subtle weavings,
Mother had no more share in him at all;
All that the mother had was Anna's leavings.
There were more lies, more lockets, more deceivings,
Taunts from the proud old woman, lies from him,
And Anna's coo of 'Cruel. Leave her, Jim.'
Also the foreman spoke: 'You make me sick,You come-day-go-day-God-send-plenty-beer.You put less mizzle on your bit of Dick,Or get your time, I'll have no slackers here,I've had my eye on you too long, my dear.'And Jimmy pondered while the man attacked,'I'd see her all day long if I were sacked.'
Also the foreman spoke: 'You make me sick,
You come-day-go-day-God-send-plenty-beer.
You put less mizzle on your bit of Dick,
Or get your time, I'll have no slackers here,
I've had my eye on you too long, my dear.'
And Jimmy pondered while the man attacked,
'I'd see her all day long if I were sacked.'
And trembling mother thought, 'I'll go to see'r.She'd give me back my boy if she were toldJust what he is to me, my pretty dear:She wouldn't leave me starving in the cold,Like what I am.' But she was weak and old.She thought, 'But if I ask her, I'm afraidHe'd hate me ever after,' so she stayed.
And trembling mother thought, 'I'll go to see'r.
She'd give me back my boy if she were told
Just what he is to me, my pretty dear:
She wouldn't leave me starving in the cold,
Like what I am.' But she was weak and old.
She thought, 'But if I ask her, I'm afraid
He'd hate me ever after,' so she stayed.
IV
Bessie, the gipsy, got with child by Ern,She joined her tribe again at Shepherd's Meen,In that old quarry overgrown with fern,Where goats are tethered on the patch of green.There she reflected on the fool she'd been,And plaited kipes and waited for the bastard,And thought that love was glorious while it lasted.
Bessie, the gipsy, got with child by Ern,
She joined her tribe again at Shepherd's Meen,
In that old quarry overgrown with fern,
Where goats are tethered on the patch of green.
There she reflected on the fool she'd been,
And plaited kipes and waited for the bastard,
And thought that love was glorious while it lasted.
And Ern the moody man went moody home,To that most gentle girl from Ercall Hill,And bade her take a heed now he had come,Or else, by cripes, he'd put her through the mill.He didn't want her love, he'd had his fill,Thank you, of her, the bread and butter sack.And Anna heard that Shepherd Ern was back.
And Ern the moody man went moody home,
To that most gentle girl from Ercall Hill,
And bade her take a heed now he had come,
Or else, by cripes, he'd put her through the mill.
He didn't want her love, he'd had his fill,
Thank you, of her, the bread and butter sack.
And Anna heard that Shepherd Ern was back.
'Back. And I'll have him back to me,' she muttered,'This lovesick boy of twenty, green as grass,Has made me wonder if my brains are buttered,He, and his lockets, and his love, the ass.I don't know why he comes. Alas! alas!God knows I want no love; but every sunI bolt my doors on some poor loving one.
'Back. And I'll have him back to me,' she muttered,
'This lovesick boy of twenty, green as grass,
Has made me wonder if my brains are buttered,
He, and his lockets, and his love, the ass.
I don't know why he comes. Alas! alas!
God knows I want no love; but every sun
I bolt my doors on some poor loving one.