Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/65
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A COLLIER’S WIFE
Somebody’s knocking at the door
Mother, come down and see.
—I’s think it’s nobbut a beggar,
Say, I’m busy.
Mother, come down and see.
—I’s think it’s nobbut a beggar,
Say, I’m busy.
It’s not a beggar, mother,—hark
How hard he knocks . . .
—Eh, tha’rt a mard-’arsed kid,
’E’ll gi’e thee socks!
How hard he knocks . . .
—Eh, tha’rt a mard-’arsed kid,
’E’ll gi’e thee socks!
Shout an’ ax what ’e wants,
I canna come down.
—’E says “Is it Arthur Holliday’s?”
Say “Yes,” tha clown.
I canna come down.
—’E says “Is it Arthur Holliday’s?”
Say “Yes,” tha clown.
’E says, “Tell your mother as ’er mester’s
Got hurt i’ th’ pit.”
What—oh my sirs, ’e never says that,
That’s niver it.
Got hurt i’ th’ pit.”
What—oh my sirs, ’e never says that,
That’s niver it.
Come out o’ the way an’ let me see,
Eh, there’s no peace!
An’ stop thy scraightin’, childt,
Do shut thy face.
Eh, there’s no peace!
An’ stop thy scraightin’, childt,
Do shut thy face.
“Your mester’s ’ad an accident,
An’ they’re ta’ein ’im i’ th’ ambulance
To Nottingham,”—Eh dear o’ me
If ’e’s not a man for mischance!
An’ they’re ta’ein ’im i’ th’ ambulance
To Nottingham,”—Eh dear o’ me
If ’e’s not a man for mischance!
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