Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MATER DOLOROSA, by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN



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MATER DOLOROSA, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Aw, billy, good sowl! Don't cuss! Don't cuss!
Last Line: O illiam, the sweet it'd be to die!
Alternate Author Name(s): Brown, T. E.
Subject(s): Grief; Sorrow; Sadness


AW, Billy, good sowl! don't cuss! don't cuss!
Ye see, these angels is grand to nuss;
And it's lek they're feedin' them on some nice air,
Or dew or the lek, that's handy there,
O Billy, look at my poor poor bress!
O Billy, see the full it is!
But . . . O my God! . . . but navar mind!
There's no doubt them sperrits is very kind --
And of coorse they're that beautiful it's lekly
The childher is takin to them directly --
Eh, Billy, eh? . . . And . . . O my head!
Billy, Billy, come to bed! . . .
And the little things that navar knew sin --
And everything as nate as a pin:
And the lovely bells goin' ding-a-lingin' --
And of coorse we've allis heard of their singin'.
But won't he want me when he'll be wakin'?
Will they take him up when he's wantin' takin'?
I hope he'll not be left in the dark --
He was allis used to make a wark
If a body'd lave him the smallest minute --
Dear me! the little linnet --
But I forgot -- it's allis light
In yandhar place . . . All right! all right!
I forgot, ye see, . . . I'm not very well . . .
Light, was I sayin'? but who can tell?
Bad for the eyes, though . . . but a little curtain
On a string, ye know -- aw certain! certain!
Let me feel your face, Billy! Jus' us two!
Aw, Billy, the sorry I am for you!
Aw 'deed it is, Billy, -- very disthressin'
To lave your childher to another pessin --
But . . . all the little rooms that's theer --
And Jesus walkin' up the steer,
And tappin' lek -- I see! I see! --
O Jesus Christ, have pity on me!
But He'll come, He'll come! He'll give a look
Jus' to see the care that's took --
O! there's no doubt He's very gud --
O, I think He wud, I think He wud!
But still . . . but still . . . but I don't know . . .
O Billy! I think I'd like to go --
What's that, Billy? did ye hear a cry?
O Illiam, the sweet it'd be to die!





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