He'll take you round to Macassar, and you'll come back alone; He knows what I want o' the Mary. what I please with my own. Your mother 'ud call it wasteful, but I've seven and-thirty more; I'll come in my private carriage and bid it wait at the door.. For my son 'e was never a credit: 'e muddled with books and art, And 'e lived on Sir Anthony's money and 'e broke Sir Anthony's heart. There isn't even a grandchild, and the Gloster family's done The only one you left me, O mother, the only one! Harrer an' Trinity College! Me slavin' early an' late, An' he thinks I'm dyin' crazy, and you're in Macassar Strait! Flesh o' my flesh, my dearie, for ever an' ever amen, That first stroke come for a warning; I ought to ha' gone to you then, But-cheap repairs for a cheap 'un-the doctors said I'd do: Mary, why didn't you warn me? I've allus heeded to you, Excep'-I know-about women; but you are a spirit now; An', wife, they was only women, and I was a man. That's how. An' a man 'e must go with a woman, as you could not understand; But I never talked 'em secrets. I paid 'em out o' hand. Thank Gawd, I can pay for my fancies! what's five thousand to me, Now For a berth off the Paternosters in the haven where I would be? I believe in the Resurrection, if I read my Bible plain, But I wouldn't trust 'em at Wokin'; we're safer at sea again. For the heart it shall go with the treasure-go down to the sea in ships. I'm sick of the hired women-I'll kiss my girl on her lips! I'll be content with my fountain, I'll drink from my own well, And the wife of my youth shall charm me-an' the rest can go to Hell! (Dickie, he will, that's certain.) I'll lie in our standin'-bed, An' Mac'll take her in ballast-and she trims best by the head. . . . Down by the head an' sinkin'. Her fires are drawn and cold, And the water's splashin' hollow on the skin of the empty hold Churning an' choking and chuckling, quiet and scummy and dark Full to her lower hatches and risin' steady. SESTINA OF THE TRAMP-ROYAL. SPEAKIN' in general, I 'ave tried 'em all, What do it matter where or 'ow we die, So long as we've our 'ealth to watch it all— In cash or credit-no, it ain't no good; But drew your tucker some'ow from the world, But, Gawd, what things are they I 'aven't done? For 'im that doth not work must surely die; Therfore, from job to job I've moved along. It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world, But what you're after is to turn 'em all. Gawd bless this world! Whatever she 'ath doneExcep' when awful long-I've found it good. So write, before I die, "'E liked it all!" |