Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE MANX WITCH; A STORY OF THE LAXDALE MINES, by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN

Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE MANX WITCH; A STORY OF THE LAXDALE MINES, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The pazon that overtook her there
Last Line: And nessy brew -- just douse that glim!
Alternate Author Name(s): Brown, T. E.
Subject(s): Isle Of Man

THE Pazon that overtook her there
Comin' home from Hollantide fair --
The Pazon? No, but Nessy Brew --
Overtook her at Follieu,
Past Bibaloe -- aye, man, aye --
Middlin' near the Never-say-die --
Toplisses -- you'll know the spot --
Nessy Brew though, whether or not --
Nessy -- her of coorse that had been
At the fair -- The Pazon? navar was seen,
Nor navar could be at the like of yandhar --
Pazon Gale! you goosie-gandhar --
What are you thinkin' of? Navar! navar!
Some people's got a notion they're clavar --
Witty -- eh? But navar mind.
Cryin'? most despard! cryin', cryin',
Cryin' fit to break her heart,
The Pazon was sayin'; and her that smart,
Of a rule, and noways apt to be freckened
Night or day.
So the Pazon reckoned
She must have got in some trouble, and hauls
Ould Smiler back in the breeches, and calls;
And "Nessy," he says, "is that you?
It's Nessy, isn't it? Nessy Brew?"
Dark, you know, and drizzlin' rain --
But Nessy wouldn' answer again
For a bit -- don't ye see? lek didn' want
The Pazon to know her, and made a slant,
And stoopin' there, and in on the ditch.
But the Pazon gave a little skitch,
And got in front, and pinned her as nate
As pozzible, and --
"You're very late
On the road," he says -- and waein' and woin' --
And -- "How are you on the road alone?
Extrorn'ry!" says the Pazon -- "What!
Alone!" he says -- and this and that,
But kind -- aw, bless ye! kind thallure --
And -- "Nessy, Nessy, to be sure!"
And -- "Get up, and tell me all aburrit."
So Nessy seen there was nothin' for it
But up she must in the Pazon's gig:
And then she tould him all the rig --
Well -- maybe not all -- not raisonable --
A gel, you know -- they're hardly able --
Aisy! aisy with the lek!
All! God bless ye! you musn' expeck --
And talkin' to a Pazon -- eh?
And didn' know hardly what to say,
But tould him -- Says she, "I didn' lave Doolish
Alone at all"; and rather foolish
She was feelin' of coorse, aw sartinly --
"There was two people tuk the road with me,"
Says Nessy. "Two," says the Pazon, "aw dear!
And did you meet them in the feer!"
"The feer?" says Nessy, "no -- at laste
It might ha been -- a nisy place
In a field," she says, "there was hosses there --
Is that what people is callin' the feer?
Hosses, and gingerbread, and pop,
And cows, and calves -- but I didn' stop."
"Didn' ye?" says the Pazon then;
"And was it two women, or was it two men
You tuk the road with?" Aw, not a word
From Nessy. "I think," says the Pazon, "I heard
Your friends down there on the Whitebridge hill."
"Aw," says Nessy, "are they fightin' still?"
"No," says the Pazon, "they warn' together,
One was far ahead of the other,
Shoutin' though, the two of them --
Yes, I think it'll be the same;
And you'll 'scuse me," he says -- sittin up like a crowbar
Was the Pazon then -- "they were hardly sober,
Hardly," he says; and then his vice
Gev a little hem! like puttin' a splice
On his kind ould throat -- "a little," he says,
"A little tossicated -- yes --
A little, I think; a little queer;
And usin' language, I think they were,
Language -- aye --"
"They were fightin'," says Nessy,
"When I left them -- aw, messy! messy!"
She says, "they've lost one another, that's it,
Lost they have, and'll hommer and hit
And grab in the dark there, and navar get hould,
And'll take and get their death of could --
Oh dear! oh dear!" and began a sabbin'.
"I suppose this homm'rin' and hittin' and grabbin'
Is about a young woman called Nessy Brew,"
Says the Pazon. "Oh! they'd come for you,"
Says Nessy, "they'd come for you they wud";
And "Aw, the muck! and aw, the blood!
Yes, sir, aw yes, sir! aw, poor Jack --
And Harry too --" And -- "Let's turn back!"

"And why did you lave them?" says the vicar;
And -- "The two of them," she says, "in liquor;
And I thought, sir, I thought, when they hadn' me,
It's peacefuller they'd be sure to be,
And helpin' each other, and takin' rest,
And forgettin' me." -- "Aw, indeed," he says,
"Forgettin' you then -- aw, the poor chile!"
And he smiled, and bless ye! you'll feel a smile
In the dark -- "forgettin', and lost the bearin's --
Poor thing! and have you got your fairin's
In your handkecher? And -- "Yes." -- "All right!"
Says the Pazon, "you'll not see these young men to-night
Again," he says; so -- "Come up, Smiler!"
And away, and tryin' to reconcile her.

But scoulded a little too, and How
Did the father ever go and allow
The like of her, that hadn' no call,
To be goin' to Hollantide fair at all?
But goin' by herself? "I went with my aunt,"
Says Nessy. "She's a woman that's scant
Of prudence," says the Pazon, says he --
"Billy's widow -- and where is she?"
"I think she's tuk at these poleeses,"
Says Nessy. "There's aunts that's worse till their nieces,"
The Pazon said; and indeed he'd spake
To her father, he said. Aw, the sake! the sake!
And beseechin' he wouldn'. "I owe it," he says,
"To your father," the good-naturedest,
The simplest man that ever he knew --
"Poor Brew!" he says, "poor Jemmy Brew!"

And then he spoke though, ter'ble nice --
Aw, the beautiful advice!
Delicake though, delicake --
Aw, that was the Pazon, bide or break.
But when they came to the steep hill
At the Cloven Stones, "Sit still, sit still!"
Says the Pazon, and down on his tippitoes,
And a hould of Smiler by the nose,
And leadin', and thinkin', and how he must warn her,
And "serious very!" turns Kelly's corner
At the bottom yandhar, and a stip and a step,
And a heave and a plump, and where was this rep?

Maybe a mile aback on the road
By gough! and him that navar knowed --
Tuk her opportunity,
Slipt out, and away, of coorse to see
Could she find these chaps, aw, I'll be bail --
"The little monkey!" says Pazon Gale.
Aw, bless ye! I've heard him tellin'
Another Pazon, ould Pazon Gellin,
That was on St. Mark's, I did, I did,
Yes, and shakin' his dear old head:
"And I'm not in the habit of the lek,
Mr. Gellin," he says, "and you'd hardly expeck,
But tuk like that, and the way she'd fled,
I called her a little monkey!" he said.

Little she wasn', no! doodoss!
But aw, the funny the Pazon was!
Good though, good; aw, bless your heart!
That's the timber 'll navar start.
'Bout ship, sir! aye immadient,
And then this poor ould reverend gent,
Backards and forrards the best of the night
Drivin' there, a most shockin' sight,
If he could ha' been seen; but made up his mind
At last to go on to Ballaquine,
Brew's farm that was lyin' east,
Far beyond the Pazon's place,
And he'd tell the father and see would he go
To look for his daughter himself . . . and so

Off with him straight, and hardly awake --
Aw, bless ye! the day was begun to break,
And -- Mrs. Gale -- aw well of coorse,
And nathural, and shuttin' the doors
Every night at nine o'clock;
And let a man be as studdy as a rock,
And a Pazon too, but still, dear me!
Lookin' ter'ble like on the spree --
Backard and forrard, and niddin' and noddin',
Just like ould Jemmy Ballavoddin --
And the Misthress ----

Well, I'll say no more,
But up with him there and slams at the door
With the end of his whip, and hurroose! hurroo!
Jemmy! James! Mr. Brew! Mr. Brew!
And Jemmy to put his head out of the windy,
And -- Bless his sowl! and what was the shindy?
And -- "Is Nessy at home?" says the Pazon then:
Nessy at home! "Why ---- Nessy ven!
Nessy! goodness grayshers! Pazon --
Nessy at home! a queer thing to be as'in';
D'ye think she's out agate o' the priddhars
As arly as this?" So the Pazon considhars
A bit, and -- "Call her then," he said,
"Call her." -- "Nessy, ger up urrov bed,
And spake to the Pazon -- funny work!"
And shuts the windhar with a jerk.

And then another windhar went down,
And out come a bunch of curls as brown
As a nut, and a face as fresh as a rose,
And just the smallest taste of clothes,
And the sun all dabbin' her like fire,
And looks at the Pazon as modest -- "Retire,
Retire," says the Pazon; "that'll do, that'll do,'
And not another word to Brew
Nor the daughter neither; but turns the hoss,
And home with him. It wasn' cross
He was lookin', no! but sad though, sad,
Lek sorrowful, lek a way he had.

Aye, but Brew was puzzled greatly,
Bless ye! he was beat complately --
The Pazon wand'rin' about in the dark
Of a Hollantide night -- a 'stonishin' lark,
Wantin' Nessy before she was up!
Dear me! Could he have had a sup,
Or what? but no! unpozzible --
The Pazon -- aye there's some of them will,
No doubt! no doubt! but drinkin'! him!
Aw, bless your granny! sink or swim,
That was the Pazon --
"What cud it ha' been,
Nessy?" he says, "I navar seen
The lek," he says: "was it walkin' he was
In his sleep, or drivin', at laste, and the hoss
Tuk for the Ballaquine on a chance?"
But no! God bless him! there wasn' no sense
In that; and the late or the arly -- which?
And beat all conscience and as dark as pitch
The most of the time -- and
"Nessy gel,
What could he be wantin'? Was he lookin' unwell?
But my goodness grayshers! just to ax
Were you up, and then to be makin' tracks
Lek immadient there -- d'ye see!
And no satisfaction for nobody.
And Smiler -- aye -- nearly druv off his legs --
What could it be, Nessy?"
"Maybe eggs,"
Says Nessy -- "Yes, he's thinkin' a dale
Of our fresh eggs is Pazon Gale --
Tould me so.' -- "Aw dear, that's rum,"
Says Brew, "and why didn' ye give him some?"
"Because he didn' ax," says she --
"Ax? is it ax?" and "Fiddledee!
Eggs! woman, eggs! it couldn' ha' been --
Bless my sowl! the man'd be keen
For his eggs that'd come that arly -- eh?
Nessy, Nessy." -- "Well, anyway,"
Says Nessy, "the Pazon's allis talkin'
About our eggs; 'They're nice though shockin','
He was sayin', 'just like wax.'"
"My goodness grayshers! why didn' he ax?"
Says the father. "Maybe he forgot,"
Says Nessy. Then Brew got middlin' hot,
And "You're just talkin' nonsense," he says, "be quite,
Not another word!"
Then he laughed outright
When he thought of the Pazon and the way he cut,
And then he gev a little chut!
And "I have it!" he says, "it's Copper, guy heng!
Copper! that's the very theng!"
Copper -- a mailie cow that was arrim,
Three cows, I think, not much of a farrim,
More like a croft, or the like of that --
"Copper -- that's what he was at:
And knew I was wantin' to sell her -- eh?
But couldn' go with her anyway
To the fair -- that accounts for this scarum-scorum,
Freckened some would be before him --
That's the arly------ dear me!
The anxious lek the man must be --
It'll come in the price aw 'deed it will --
He's hot upon her -- she's very lill,
But good uncommon -- twelve I'll take for her,
Twelve pound ten." -- "And why didn' he spake for her?
Surely he might have axed," says she.
"I suppose he forgot it." -- "Fiddlededee!"
Says Nessy -- "Like the eggs," says Brew,
And he-he-he and hoo-hoo-hoo --
They laughed and they laughed -- "forgot!" "forgot!"
"Like the eggs," "like the cow," like the------ go to pot!
"Forgot, no doubt, forgot!" and as merry
The two of them there -- aw very, very.

That night I was up at the Ballaquine;
And there was Nessy, and Sally Behind --
The aunt, you know, a widow woman,
And a sister of Brew's, that was imp'rint uncommon,
And bad with the tongue; she was goin' a-callin'
Sally Behind, for the way she was fallin'
Abaft of her midships: Manx? yes, Manx,
For all her married name was Banks --
Brew's sister -- and the talk that was there!
And the Pazon comin' home from the fair
And as drunk! aw, bless ye! as drunk as rosin --
That was the aunt. "He wasn'! he wasn!"
Says Nessy, "no such a thing!" -- "And how
Do you know?" says the aunt; aw then the row!
My gough! they went at it!
But Jemmy Brew
Was smilin' there, and "Hush then! shoo!"
He says; and "Here's a chap with brains --
What's your opinion, Thomas Baynes?"
"My opinion," says I, "it's aisy given --
If ever there was an angel in heaven,
It's Pazon Gale. Did ye ever hear,"
Says I, "of angels the wuss for beer?
Gerr out!" I says, "I know his trim,
If you don't, and I'll fight for him,
I'll die for him, I'll be cut in pieces,
And fifty aunts, nor fifty nieces --

"But -- as'in' your pardon, Nessy," I says,
"You've tuk his part -- all right! success
To the handsome gel you allis were,
Aye, and gennal------ but that woman there,"
I says, "I think she'd better be cookin'
Her own mate," I says, "and lookin'
To herself a bit both before and behind her --
And look slippy," I says, just a lill reminder,
A sort of a dig d'ye see? woahup!
Look out for squalls! My gough! She up
With a clout, and made a drive that vicious
She didn' strike me, but she knocked two dishes
And a pazil of plates there off the dresser;
And the niece to shout whatavar'd possess her
To do such jeel with the crockery
Of other people -- very free,
Very -- and batthar remember the cost --
And it wasn' her house --
And no more it was;
For she lived in a thalthan up the river
Belongin' to Brew that wouldn' have her
In the house with him at all -- no, he wudn'!
Not even when the wife died, which died very sudden,
And Nessy only a child -- no, no!
So I thought it was just about time to go --
But I stood for the Pazon -- aw, cut and thrust!
Ye see, I was lovin' him scandalous --
Aye and everybody -- and no thanks!
Only this craythur -- this Mrs. Banks --
She didn' love him, and she didn' hate him,
And she knew she couldn' aggravate him
No more till a magpie, or a sparrer --
But just the dirty tongue that was arrer --
A miser'ble thing, that deserved to be skelpit --
Only it's lek she couldn' help it.

Now what d'ye think this Nessy had done
That Hollantide night, the time she run
And left the Pazon? There was one of these parties
She never seen, for, behould ye! my hearties
Tuk diff'rin' roads, the one to the shore,
And the one to the mountain above Slieu-Core.
So Nessy happened on the track
Of the mountain beauty -- and that was Jack --
Jack Pentreath -- aw, Manx thallure --
But his father was Cornish to be sure --
Neddy St. Ives they were callin' the father,
But Jack -- aw, Jack -- that was flighty rather --
Jack Pentreath -- well, no, I'll not say
Flighty either; but ye see the way
It was -- but hould on, you'll hear, you'll hear.
The other chap was Harry Creer --
From Dalby he came, and so he was gettin'
"Harry from Dalby."
Well, Jack was sweatin'
Up the mountain, and a hullabaloo,
And a quiv'rin' and shoutin' what would he do,
And where was this villyan? and -- "Aisy! aisy!"
Says Nessy to him, "you needn' go crazy --
Come," she says. "And will you go linkin'
With me?" says Jack. "Aw well, I'm thinkin'
I'd better," says Nessy; "it'll be more safer,"
And offs with him -- aw, as tight as a wafer --
Poor Jack! but the plazed, and the tittle-tattle,
And studdied hisself. For they'd had a battle
Who'd she link with? and wouldn' take rest,
And round and round like compasses --
And her goin' duckin' under their arms --
Aw, bless ye! trust these lill madarms!
(Lill she wasn') -- and then they'd got gript
Like the very deuce, and Nessy slipt
To one side, and them two kissin' like mad,
Till they found by the whisker who they had --
And then -- hurroose!
But as nice, you navar,
Now -- aw, dear! and leadin' him clavar
Down a lane by the Ballacrie,
Just to dodge the Pazon -- aye --
That's it, man -- Sithee! (these cotton-balls) sithee!
And comin' out at Lewin's smithy,
And heard the gig, and "come!" and besaechin',
And dragged him in there to the praechin'
That was in the chapel --
Aw, a nice pair!
And the people gave a ter'ble stare --
But Jack was like a cherubim --
That happy -- but had to be hoult in the hymn
At Nessy -- aye: and the Pazon druv
Past all right. And then to shove
This Jack to the door, that was smellin' of gin,
And makin' faces astonishin',
And the light in his eyes -- aw, she stuck to the chap,
And whenever they heard the Pazon's trap,
They tuk for the hedge, or wherever they cud,
And got him home -- intarmined she wud --
It'd be on the stroke of three
When they fetched his lodgin' -- not a light to see,
Nor nothin', and all of them in bed;
But a-side of the house a little shed,
For tools and the lek, and not even a door in,
And just a push, and left him snoorin';
And home, and the father in bed since seven,
And thinkin' she wouldn' be after eleven,
But was for all; but navar knew --
Aw, an aisy ould chap was Jemmy Brew.

Well now, I'll tell you about Harry and Jack --
Aw, dacent fellows, that's a fact.
Jack was lill, and Harry was big,
And sometimes takin' a hearty swig,
I tell ye, but dacent fellows enough.
Harry was tall, but Jack was tough;
Jack was just like pin wire,
Jack was just like made of fire,
Lean and supple, hard as a rock,
A reg'lar little fightin' cock.
Harry's hair was just like tow,
Jack's was as black as the wing of a crow,
Jack was sallow and dark o' the skin,
Harry was red astonishin' --
Red though, red: so that was the pair,
Jack Pentreath and Harry Creer.

Now red or yellow, blue or black,
A passionater fellow till Jack
There couldn' ha' been -- aw, desperate!
He'd have it out, he wouldn' wait --
He'd have it out whatever it was --
Have it out -- no lip nor sauce
Would do for Jack, no chiffin' nor chaffin';
Navar bothered much with laughin'
Didn' Jack -- a word and a blow --
Terrible in earnest though,
Perseverin', if you'll understand --
Jack was like two dogs in one,
The dog to hunt, and the dog to fight;
But still he wasn' takin' delight
In fightin' -- no; nor wantin' to be
Cock-o'-the-mine --
Stay -- let me see --
Did I tell you they were miners? no?
Miners, miners, just so --
Miners the two of them -- Laxdale mines,
That's countin' ter'ble for the finds,
And the big wheel yandhar. But, however,
Jack could work the fisses clever.
Harry wasn' no match for him,
For all the big of body and limb,
Harry'd fight of coorse, if he had to,
But I don't suppose he was very glad to.

But Jack, ye see, if he had a desire
To anything, he was nothin' but fire
And rage and fury -- my gough, the sperrit!
And wouldn' give in afore he'd gerrit --
Wouldn'! mortal uncomfible
To have daelin's with the lek, for they will,
And they will and they will, and it isn' no use;
Can't help it, it's lek, houldin' on like the deuce;
Like these bull-dogs, when once they're gript the teeth,
There's nothin' 'll slacken them, only death.

Uncomfible they are though, shockin',
And so is a bull-dog, takin' and lockin'
His jaw like a vice. And special gels --
They can't be thinkin' of nothin' else
Night or day, the whole of the world
Is nothin' but her, and the head goes whirl,
And the heart like a burnin' fiery furnace --
That's the chaps that is in earnest,
And no matter the why and no matter the fur
It's her and her and her and her --
Her they must have -- they must, they must,
And all the rest is only dust
And dirt. And the same for everything --
An oar, a pick -- but faymales! by jing!
Faymales! aw, bless ye! simply crazy --
That's it -- nor they can't nor they won't take it aisy.

Now Harry was a hearty lad,
But ter'ble hard to make him mad
About the lek: he liked a gel --
Very well -- very well --
Liked her -- certainly; but if he got vexed,
Or bothered, you know, just on to the next --
That was Harry -- much the same
Whatever happened -- a sort of craem
These chaps has got for blood: it's cool
And sweet and that, and, of a rule,
It's not aisy put out, but -- liquor -- well,
Of coorse, of coorse. I could hardly tell
Had Jack any blood in him, but when
The craythur was a fightin', and then
He had plenty of it and to spare,
But difficult to say the where
It was stowed at him. Harry's was in his face,
All over him was Harry's case.

Aye, but Jack -- aw, none of your blubber
At Jack, not him -- just Indian-rubber
All over, aw, a bird of the game,
None of your buttermilk, none of your craem,
Dry, man, dry -- and the springy hipped,
The reg'lar whalebone! See him stripped!
That was the thing -- aw, belly or back!
See him stripped, and there was Jack.
He was raelly awful, a sort of a shine
Like shells, like ---- aw, it's no use try'n' --
Comin' off him ---- lek a kind o' brassy --
Lek these yallar images, aye was he.
Lek the blood, ye see, was a sort of a venom,
Or varnish, or vitriol that was in him.
Quick though, quick -- for Harry would swing
His arms like a windmill, but Jack would spring
Like a goose's merry-thought, and at ye he'd come
Like a dart, like a wasp, like a rocket by gum!

So there was two of Miss Nessy's beaux --
Miners, I tould ye -- but goodness knows
The chaps that was after yandhar gel --
Respectable? respectable!
I should think so -- respectable is it?
Eiras, bless ye! would be payin' their visit
To the Ballaquine -- yes, eiras, drapers
From Dhoolish, bless ye! with their capers,
Foremen, overseers, a cap'n,
Loadin' there on the beach, would drap in
Now and then -- I've seen the lek.

But, just azackly the way you'll expeck,
The young miners it was that was schamin'
To get this Nessy; just like claimin'
She belonged to them whoever'd be
The lucky chap -- lek proppity,
Lek shares, lek ---- swore together to watch
That none of these dandy divils'd snatch
The prize, the beauty of Ballaquine,
This rose that had grew at the mouth of the mine.

That was their talk. And a sort of a club,
Or a saycret 'ciety, and hub-and-nub,
And sentries just lek souldiers placin',
And takin' their turn of a Sunday facin'
The chapel, and up the road, and grips,
And officers, and passes -- "Lips"
Was the word, I believe, and the counterword --
Well, I forget; but still I've heard --

But -- Lips -- that's Nessy -- the mouth? just so --
Like a puffeck rose in the full blow --
Eyes, of coorse, and nice they were --
Blue -- yes, blue; but the most that was there,
I tell ye, couldn' see nothin' but just
The mouth. It wasn' a sort of a puss,
Puckered and quilted and hemmed and hitched
And gored and eylotted and stitched --
Plenty of it ---- reefs and reefs,
And more to come; and then the teefs
All set round -- aw, I'll be bail
Drew to scale, drew to scale --
The mouth she had ---- aw, hit or miss,
For all the world like a big red kiss.

So these chaps was jealous you navar seen,
And had her for a sort of a queen;
But every miner to have his chance,
And whichever she'd chose, the rest at once
To give in, resign her, they said, resign her;
But only she must marry a miner.

Aw, many's the blade has been tuk and ducked
In the big dam yandhar, or clouted and mucked,
And all his fine clothes a soakin' like runnet,
And navar the wiser who was it that done it;
Aye, and caught in the dark, and pounded
At these divils, and navar the one of them rounded
Upon the others -- aw, true as wedges,
And huntin' these drapers over the hedges,
And sthoo'd a chap by the name of Jones,
Every step to the Cloven Stones.

Was I in it? ho-ho-ho!
Sailors and miners -- bless ye -- no!
Wouldn' ha' had me, couldn' neither --
Differn' cattle altogether,
Rovin' divils sailors is,
Navar much in the one place:
Besides these miners is more of a clan,
Keepin' more on the one hand;
And I couldn' for sartin allis agree with them,
But aisy enough for th' get on the spree with them --
Rather too aisy, for the matter of that;
But every hatter his own hat,
And every trade its own tricks,
And its own saycrets -- nix is nix,
Wherever you'll be.

But, houldin' their own,
There they had me ---- the rose that had grown
At the mouth of their mine ---- and chaps to be comin'
Sniffin' and snuffin' like bumbees hummin'
Around their rose ---- it isn' raison,
And it isn' sense -- the same with grazin'
On the commons, the same with fishin'-ground,
The same with everything; and you're bound
To stick to it too. And a gel like Nessy --
Dear me! if it was Dick Quayle-vessy,
He's yours for all; look after the lek --
"Cair! cair!" says Billy Injebrek.
But a splendid gel like Nessy -- chut!
It's nothin' but reg'lar poachin': "Cut!"
Says you to this draper from Dhoolish, "be off!
You Ramsey sneak." You'd be middlin' soft
If you didn' -- to let them gather your rose
That handy from under your very nose!
"She's ours," you'd say, "and we mean to keep her."
If he stands to it, hit him a tap on the peeper --
They're not much these dandies -- down with the fut!
"Cut!" says you, and by gough they'll cut.

So that's the way they'd all combine
For the honour and glory of the mine.
Supposin' she didn' marry the one o' them
All right, all right! still every man o' them
Had had his chance, and equally
She wouldn' be marryin' nobody.

Friday is pay-day: one Saturday
I was in at Callow's as you may say,
Lek a little sociable or that;
And a hape of miners, and there they sat
Like a Quakers' meetin' no talkin', no laughin',
Not the smallest taste of chaffin',
Till all of them was in the room,
Bless my sowl! a sort of a gloom
Over the lot. It'd be very near
A week or so after Hollantide feer,
And every chap, as he tuk his place
On the settle or that, you'd see the rest
Lift up their eye as sollum though,
Lek axin'; and him with a sort of a no,
And a shake of the head, and out with his clay,
And charges and sucks and draws away.

I was noticin'; and Jack, d'ye see,
Come in, and the shake accordantly;
And Harry last; and the whole of them lookin'
But Harry had a pipe arrim smookin',
And navar no shake o' the head they 'd get,
But just a little sort of a spit
At Harry.
Now it appears they were signin'
Articles -- I think there was nine in --
Rules, is it? I don't care --
Rules then -- that they'd run it fair;
No chap to take advantage lek
Over the rest; and the smallest speck
Lek it would be of encouragement --
Lek a word, or a nod -- then this here gent
To kermoonicate it to the lot
Under penalties to be shot,
For all I know, or hung as high
As Haman, if he tould a lie.

Honour bright! I seen the book
Years after, and even a look
Was down, and how much was countin' for it,
'Longside the name of the chap that gorrit --
Somethin' like ---- Jeremiah Wilde --
Looked at him in the chapel, and smiled --
Two marks; Dick Clucas passin' the farrim,
And Nessy hove a priddha arrim.
One mark and a half ---- Nathaniel Fathom --
Nessy held the hymn-book with him
Last Sunday, countin' seven marks --
Lek that ye know -- aw dear, the larks!
Nonsense you're thinkin'? Aw, lek enough!
But I hardly think ye know the stuff
Them Laxdale chaps is made of, no --
Curious very, treminjis though.

Now it wasn' a meetin' they had at all,
Lek they're callin' it special general,
Of the 'ciety, but just drop in
Anybody, and yarns to spin
And talk to talk. So Harry Creer
Wasn' bound to tell them theer
Why he didn' shake the head,
Lek meanin' nothin' done or said
At Nessy to him that week, you know,
But Jack was feelin' dreadful low,
For Nessy had spoke to him sure enough,
But ter'ble savage, ter'ble rough,
And the dirty turn-out and sent him flyin',
And he must never come near the Ballaquine --
"Ye nasty thing! you're not fit,
You're no better till a ideit!"

So Jack was mad, and "Come out!" he says --
And ter'ble winkin' at the rest --
"Come out!" he says, and as grim as grim;
So out they went, Harry and him.
Aw dear! when he had him out on the street
The row that was at them! I didn' see't
Nor nobody, but Harry was tellin' --
"What's this?" he says, "what's this, ye villain?"
And a grip of his throat, houldin' on like a ferret.
"That's not azactly the way to gerrit,"
Says Harry, chokin'. "Let go! let go!"
He slackened a bit, but very slow --
Greedy lek -- "It wasn' much,"
Says Harry, "bless your sowl! don't clutch
Like Yandhar -- only a handful of gravel
I hove in the window." -- "The devil! the devil!"
Says Jack -- "you hove -- and -- well then, well!
She come, she come -- aw, it's aisy to tell,"
And begun a cryin'. "She come," says Harry,
"Yes, she come, but she didn' tarry;
'Harry Creer,' she says, 'the sot,'
And down with the window like a shot."
"Aw Harry, Harry!" and grips his hand,
"Harry, Harry, Harry man!"
And -- "Harry, you're a friend of mine;
Keep away from the Ballaquine,
Aw do, la! do! aw yes! aw dear!
You're not lovin' her, Harry Creer!
Harry, Harry! just only the pride,
And lek not likin' to be put o' one side
When all the chaps is sportin' their figures --
Of coorse, of coorse; it's not the biggerst
That's lovin' the most, you know it's not,
Harry, you know! aw, promise to't!
Promise!" and Harry half willin' there --
A good-natured sowl. But -- "Swear it! swear!
Swear, Harry!" and an oath like your arm
For the long, most despard, like some charm
At these wutches, awful! "Liver and lights" --
Lek cussin' all his odd jints --
Till Harry got freckened altogether;
But he didn' like to deny him either --
"With blood," says Jack, "with blood, with blood!"
And out with the knife.

But Harry stood
Again' the notion very stiff,
And -- No, and he didn't like. "Your shift,"
Says Jack like lightnin', the quick he was --
But Harry gettin' rather cross --
"Will you change your shift with Tommy Mawby?"
"Well, what for?" says Harry from Dalby.
"What for?" says Harry -- stupid rather.
"Because we'll be up and down together,
And then I'll know where you are," says Jack;
Aw, as straight as straight; no keepin' back,
No sneakin' hoky-poky ways
With yandhar fellow, if you plaze.

Semple, you're thinkin'? that may be, --
Love is just semplicity --
Real love, of coorse -- chat!
Semplicity! why, bless ye! that
Is love, is, is, is, is, or oughter --
Is fire semple? is air? is water?
Semple? "Sincere," the Pazon was sayin' --
Sincerity -- oh, isn' it plain?
One thought, one thought -- aw, through and through,
One in her, and one in you --
Semple, single -- isn' it clear?
Nothin' else but just sincere --
A great word with the Pazon -- foolishness?
No, no, my lads! it's the best thing, the best,
It's the only thing, just the one bright flash
That quivers through this world of trash
And make-believe; it's swift, it's short,
It's gone -- and we're all the better for't,
Aye, and the wiser -- couldn' stay long,
Not like that -- you need to be young
To work that horse-power, mind ye, my men!
Aw yes, you can love again,
But not like that -- it's only the once --
Aw, give it a chance! give it a chance!
One wave flung in upon the shore,
That bursts and breaks for evermore.

So none of your humbug, backin' and fillin',
But just straight off -- Would Harry be willin'
To work, you know, on the shift with him,
And then it would be the same trim
For the two of them? "What! navar free
To go by myself?" says Henery,
"And try my luck! lek fastenin' us
Together like dogs" -- and he gev a cuss --
"I won't," he says.
Aw, Jack made a run,
And caught him, and gript him, and cryin' like fun,
And beggin' him for God's sake,
And the tears! the tears! like urrov a lake --
Aw, the slush of tears -- "Harry, Harry!"
A nice chap for the gel to marry!
The tears then, is it the tears ye mane?
The tears -- yes, yes, but comin' like rain --
There's everything in tears -- of coorse!
Look at the pressure, look at the force!
Shallow water? go to pot!
There's shallow water, and there's water that's not.
Pumpin'! says you; there's some people can,
But the tears of a man that is a man
Is wantin' no pumpin', nor no tap, nor no cock,
I know I've got to the real rock
When I see the lek. You may grin like apes,
You may squeeze your face in a thousand shapes,
You may smooth it till it's like pin-jane,
But the tears, the tears that comes like rain --
Then you have him -- see! he's cryin'!
That's the chap! aw, there's no denyin'.

And childher -- is it only pushin'
Their finger that makes the tears come rushin'
Till they're nothin' but tears, just a livin' spout?
It's because they're turnin' inside out
Easier till grown-up people, being pli'ble,
Aye -- but us that's ouldher is li'ble
To get hard and stiff, or else all flabby,
Just a miser'ble sort of drabby,
Lek feelin' nothin', or seemin' we didn',
Like an ould boot upon a midden.
God bless the childher! God bless their wayses!
They're spinnin' no cobwebs before their faces --
Not much like spiders isn' them --
Yandhar David too the same,
In the Bible you've got him, like it appears --
Aw, David was the boy for tears!

I don't hould no more till you
With allis cryin', boo-boo-boo!
Shlishin'-slushin', snittle-snottle;
But "Put my tears in thy bottle,"
Says David, "thy bottle," lek God, it's meant,
Had a bottle arrim, lek fillin' with scent,
And like enough a goold stopper --
Aw, beautiful! but must be a whopper
To hould all the tears -- a sort of decanter,
Lek silver-mounted -- but I wouldn' vanture
To say it was really that, but just
To give you a notion, the way we must
With the lek, of coorse, bein' what ye may call --
Aye, man, aye -- but aisy all!

So Harry couldn' stand this cry'n',
And promised there, but he wouldn' sign
In blood, no, no! "It's usual done,"
Says Jack, but didn' see the fun,
Didn' Harry, but just to be
On the same shift, and glad to get free
Of this chap and all his hollabaloo --
A day shift it was too,
Comin' off about five in the everin',
And washed, I tell ye, and as nate as a pin,
And no hurry at all, but the smile on the face,
And plenty of chaps about the place,
Souljerin' there, but off on the sly
One after the other -- "I think I'll try
Is the troutsis bitin'," they'd say, or bitendin'
To meet the coach, or had to be mendin'
Something at home; and'd walk that slack,
And the hands in the pockets, and the swing of the back,
And the slink and the slouch. But, out of sight,
Up to the Ballaquine with them straight --
Hedges and ditches; but, when they'd get near,
They'd slack again -- aw, never fear!
And standin' and starin' very hard
At some oats, or some clover, or a pig in the yard,
Or -- anything; or lookin' lek wond'rin'
How they come theer at all, and blund'rin'
In on the back, and in on the front,
Or the barn, or the haggard; and a surt of a grunt,
And a heave, and a start, lek "Bless my sowl!
Is this the Ballaquine?" And'd rowl
Their eyes most ter'ble, and amazin' to meet
The lot of them theer upon the street.

And the nudgin' and shovin' there'd be in
For one of them to make a begin
And talk to the gel; and whichever spoke,
One of the chaps'd gev a poke
To another, and then the lot'd buss
Out a laughin', and Nessy would puss
Her mouth, and give a little shy
With her head; and another chap'd try,
And then the roor, and "Woa, man, woa!"
And "He-he-he," and "Ho-ho-ho!"

Miners? Miners! sartinly not;
Miners -- they're another lot;
Miners' sooreyin' -- aw, ye needn' doubt it!
They goes another way about it,
Does miners, aye, bein' chaps that way,
That's rather for turnin' night into day --
Down in the mines -- the way you'd expeck --
Fond of the dark, and used of the lek,
Suckin' it just like liquorice-ball,
They can't take up with the daylight at all.

I've heard of people born in a mine,
Poor divils! aw, just as good as blind --
At laste they got no eyes to spake of,
Just a little bit of a strake of
Light, like a groove, like a seam, like a slit,
Livin' and dyin' in the pit --
That's England -- that's these "lower urdhers" --
A despard country, full of murders --
But coals, of coorse, most horrid dirty,
And iron very near as clarty.

Aye; but in the Isle of Man
It's lead that's goin', you'll understand --
And a dale claner to work it is,
A dale claner -- aw, 'deed yis!
Claner -- but still they had to clane --
Sartinly -- you know what I mane --
Titivatin' -- "In the dark?" says you,
Lek you're thinkin' the differ wouldn' be knew?
Nonsense! where's a fellow's pluck
To coort, if he's feelin' all of a muck,
And sticky and sweaty -- no, la! no!
A nice clean shirt and a collar though --
It's what you're feelin', not what you're lookin',
That's the style, or you'd better be hookin'.

And sure enough it's dark they hev it
Often enough; but as right as a trevit,
And comfible that way in your clothes --
Aw, it's doin' a dale, and goodness knows
Why, but it does; and maybe two'n
The mornin' at ye, a big strong moon
'll swim out of a cloud, and you to stand there
Lookin' up, and her in the wandhar
Lookin' down -- and you like her to see
Your face as bright as a thingummagee,
And your handkecher, and all to that,
Nate, man, nate, and a cock on your hat,
Like a surt of a buck; and look at her --
The clane she is, and the tickelar.

Bless ye! don't I know the lek?
And the little shiver, and wrappin' the neck,
And lookin' at the moon and sigh'n',
And whisp'rin' -- aw, the Ballaquine
Wasn' the only place, d'ye hear --
Not it! not it! aw dear! aw dear!
Strainin' out through honeysuckles,
Or ivy, and her hair in buckles
Of coils and coils; and her body stretchin'
Lek far away, lek longin', lek retchin'
To heaven itself, lek tuk and caught
At some angel -- and even you forgot --
Yis, and then a sniff and a sniggle,
And just the smallest taste of a giggle
Lek -- bless my sowl! you'd think it was sporras
In the thatch beginnin' their little good-morrows.

And then the coolin' of the mornin' air,
And things goin' a seein' everywhere,
And the crow of the cock, and the stir of the cows,
And the dead white light on the front of the house --
Aw, they do'n' like that! aw no they do'n'!
Aw, bless ye! it's just about time to be go'n'
Then; but still you'll not be off
Till she shuts the window; and often enough
It'll be broad day in the garden there,
And she'll see you, if you can't see her.
So mind you'll be smart -- d'ye hear me, you sir?
Just take my word -- it'll be well to do ser.

Aye, and this Nessy had a way
That lots of them has, to take and stay
A bit behind a curtain or that --
Aw, bless your life! just a bit of a cat
In the whole of them -- aw, I'll allow --
Lek seein' how are ye actin' now.
You think her eye isn' on you -- take care!
They're rather dangerous, they are,
That way -- aye -- bein' it's mornin' --
And just, ye know, to see if you're yawnin',
Or the lek o' that; and 'scusable
If you are, you know; but they navar will,
No, not them -- no use! no use of ye!
Bless ye! they'll navar take excuse of ye!
Navar! navar! and all the same
You don't want to be slopin' -- it's just like a dhrame;
You're greedy of any chance she might come
Back to the window -- the way with some --
Back, and back. And you're still as death,
And the honeysuckles seems full of her breath --
And -- yes, it is! and -- no, it isn'!
She's gone! she's gone! and the sun is risen.
There, there! I couldn' help it, my men --
Aisy then! aisy then!

Well that was Jack and Harry's style,
And lek enough the best of a mile
To the farm, but takin' differin' ways
Reggilar; and Jack 'd ha' 'crase
Mostly of Harry, but couldn' hinder
But the two of them meetin' under the winder.
Jack fuss, and Harry to folla --
And Harry more like a dooiney-molla
For Jack, lek helpin' him to woo,
But takin' his turn at the winder too --
Aw, honour bright! but not much, ye see,
To say for himself, this Henery --
Not him -- and puzzled, I doubt,
Puzzled enough to hould out
The time that Jack was givin' him -- shy,
And hum and hem, and "Aye, woman? aye?"
That was the most she got out of Harry --
Aw, a dacent chap! aw, varry! varry!
But 'lowanced of brain -- that's it! that's it!
'Lowanced enough, and navar fit
For the likes of her, that could dance all round him
With the tongue, and altogether confound him --
And -- "Aye, woman? aye?" till at last she says --
"It's no use o' churnin' away like this,
And navar no butter." And -- "Come! will ye talk
About Jack?" she says, and he wouldn' baulk
The young woman of coorse. "Very well," says he,
And on about Jack, and fiddlededee --
And what did he think of Jack? was he right
In his mind, did he think? and rather a flight
Of a craythur -- what? and no doubt takin' care --
The way she was spakin' -- that Jack would hear --
And Jack nearly choked with the rage -- good Lord,
But bitendin' not to hear a word.

And then she'd make her note that sweet
And soft and trimblin' -- it was like the tweet
Of a young duck. And -- Wasn' he nice
This Jack? -- aw dear! and couldn' he tice
The arm off a gel? And -- Wasn' he a love?
And wasn' he a darlin'? -- and a surt of a shove
With the words, like arrars from the quivers,
Sendin' Jack in the fits of shivers.

And couldn' stand it, poor fellow, of coorse,
And rushin' on Harry, and as hoorse as hoorse,
And whisp'rin', "Look here! the time is up."
Then says Nessy, "Suppose I want him to stop --
Time, indeed! whose time? bad 'cess!
You're thinkin' a dale of yourself," she says,
"It's for me, not for you, to tell him to go --
Time did ye say? But I'll have you to know."
And stoops -- and -- "Listen, Harry, will ye?
I've got something partikkilar to tell ye.
Jack musn' hear. Be off with ye, Jack,
To the apple-tree, and don't come back
Till I tell ye." The apple-tree -- that was the place
They had to stand, in any case,
When their coortin' was off, just like it would be
Their watch on deck -- aye -- the apple tree-----

"Apple-tree, apple-tree,
Cover me, cover me,
Branches of the apple-tree!
While night's shadows drift and flee,
Fall on me, fall on me,
Blossoms of the apple-tree --
Pink-tipt snowflakes tenderly
Gliding from the apple-tree!"

Aye, them's Tommy's, Tommy Big-eyeses --
Ter'ble for rimin' -- all surts and sizes,
Tommy, bless ye!
But Brew, the father --
It's lek you're thinkin' it curious rather
He was navar hearin' them at these games.
Well, lizzen to me; that man was the same's
A pig for the sleepin' and the snorin' --
See-saw! Margery Daw!
Roarin', borin' --
No starts, no snarts arrim -- studdy he done it,
Studdy directly he begun it --
Say about half-past eight or that
Till maybe four in the mornin' -- chat!
Yandhar man! you could hear pretty farrish
The snore of him -- fit to shake the parish.

So of coorse. But lek enough you'll be sayin'
Boosely music to be playin'
Lek a surt of accomplamink
To the coortin' -- and aisy so to think,
Aisy, natheral; but still
People that's coortin', ye see, they will;
And somethin' to know the ould chap's safe --
I'd rather trust him snorin' than deaf,
'Deed I would. But you wouldn' sundher
From the gel you love for the roots of thundher.
But couldn' help laughin' sometimes -- pirry us!
Special Harry, that wasn' that sirrious,
Nor that deep like Jack: but often corrected
At this fellow -- Her father must be respected
To his very snore, says Jack, as sollum
As avar ye seen a what-d'ye-call-um.

And had they it all to themselves that tune?
What was all the other chaps doin'?
Well, you'll obsarve, it wasn' none
But the miner lads that ever done
The reg'lar sooreyin' that's in,
Lek what they're callin' sooreyin' --
Proper lek -- you know the surt --
Them other chaps I was tellin', that dirt
Of shoemakers, and tailors, and jiners
And that, was freckened of the miners,
Reg'lar freckened, and navar dar'd
Show a nose inside of the yard
After the milkin' -- no -- they dar'n' --
Aw, they're not to be trifled with, miners ar'n' --
You'd batthar belave it! one or two of them
Tried it a bit, but all the crew of them
Jined -- these miners down at the Pub,
Members of the "Nessy Club" --
Yis, that's what they were callin' the 'ciety --
And they tuk such urdher, and worked such variety
Of ghoses and goblins, and big bogganes,
Like divils growlin' in their dens,
And groanin' ter'ble behind the fences,
That they freckened these fellas urrov their senses.

So that was all right; and Harry and Jack
Had no more trouble with the lek.
But every one their own troughs --
That was the coortin' of these boughs --
Boughs, ye know -- yis, that was the name --
Pushin' each other -- a rum surt o' game
To plase a gel; and laughin' that rough --
A passil o' donkeys, sure enough!

But still these two had another plan --
Jack, of coorse, the head man,
And Harry was willin' either way;
But Jack persuaded him to lay
The thing before the committee
Of the club, and -- Couldn' they all agree
That Jack and Harry had the chance,
And let the others go to France,
Or Jericho? And statin' their case --
And "for-as-much," and "the year of grace" --
And signed and sealed, and made declar'
That Nessy was favourin' them far
Above the other chaps; and so
What was the good for them to go
Any more? and the register at them
To stop at once, and just to let them
Settle it theirselves, whichever
Nessy 'd chice, and for him to have her --
Aw, as true as I'm a sinner --
And fair play, and back the winner!
And tuk their davies, bein' as't,
And proposed and seconded, and passed
Umnanermous -- and "Do-to-wit,"
And "Amen," and "So be it"!
Very sollum -- makin' motions --
Aw, these miners has their notions.

From that very day there wasn' a sowl
Interferin'; but Jack got foul
Of these tailor-lads and all the rout,
And he wouldn' have them comin' about.
And he went to Brew, and he axed him to act --
"It's puffeck scandalous," says Jack,
"Puffeck scandalous." -- "And you,
What are you after then?" says Brew --
"Aye, man, aye? if I may make so bould."
So Jack bucked up to him, and tould
All about it. And -- "Bless my life!
And is she goin' to be your wife?
Yours?" says Brew, "engaged, it's lek?
Engaged is it? a purty speck!"
"No," says Jack, "but goin' to be --
Coortin." -- "Coortin'! fiddlededee!
Botheration! what d'ye say?
You're coortin' reg'lar? Coort away!
But these collaghs that's comin' about the farm
Of an evenin' -- bless my sowl! What harm?
Rather company, lek a surt of a cheerin'."

But Jack was ter'ble perseverin' --
"They're jokin' her," he says, "and provokin' her," he says,
"Till she ups and at them out and in,
And gives them the imperince of sin --
And isn' nathral in her -- no!
And it's spilin' the gel; and it's boosely show!
And she isn' nice that way a bit,
And it isn' right, and it isn' fit;
And you've got the 'torrity, Masthar Brew,
So give them it! aw do, aw do!"
"'Torrity," says Brew, "gallivantin'!
I'll 'torrity them, if it's that what you're wantin'.
'Torrity!" and as grim as grim --
So this was the way he 'torritied them.

The very next evenin' -- aw, navar fail!
He come upon the street with a flail --
"Clear out of this!" says he, and a slash
Lek every way -- "clear out, ye trash!
Clear out!" he says, "ye Skilligalee!
These wayses isn' shuitin' me --
Clear out!" and he made another quiver,
And they cleared that yard pretty quick, however.
Aw yis, I tell ye -- and Nessy that white
With the mad, and standin' on her right,
And -- "Nice work!" and wouldn' speak
To the father or Jack the best of a week.

But coaxed, did Jack, aw, coaxed her though,
And Harry to help him, and the orchard like snow
That year up yandhar, like snow; you'd see't
The best of a mile -- aw, a reg'lar sheet --
Most beautiful. And Lord love ye!
The nice it is to have yandhar above you
And all around you, as you may say --
Apple-blossom in the middle of May.

That's the coortin'! Aw, lave it alone!
The Queen of England upon her throne
Might envy you then. The trees like nets
All knotted over with white rosettes,
Like white ladies standin' theer --
In the spring -- of coorse: in the fall of the year
I don't know; but still, for a chice --
But bless ye! an orchard is allis nice:
It's like heaven, I think, and the angels flittin'
From tree to tree, and you to be sittin'
With . . . well, well, well! the Lord can save,
The Lord, the Lord it was that gave,
Gave her, gave her, and tuk her the same,
And blessed be His holy name!
Aisy, lads! it's a finish night --
All right, all right!

So, as I was a sayin' -- aye, aye, in the fall
Maybe not so nice; but still the smell
Of the apples -- aw dear! they'll do ye! they'll do ye!
Aw, through and through ye! through and through ye!
It's a very lovin' smell is apples --
This stuff the Romans burns in their chapels
Is very sweet! but what is it comparin'
To apples, special goin' a bearin'
In an orchard -- all a surt of 'spicion
Of rum things about, like some faery was fishin'
With a smell for a bait -- invisible --
Aw, sartinly -- but a smell, a smell.

And sure enough the sarpint knew't --
'Deed he did, the ugly brute --
There's no mistake it's that that done
Eve altogether----- I mean, begun,
For ate she did, and so did Adam,
But ate she needn' -- this tasty madam,
No -- but smellin' she couldn' help --
That's where he had her -- this divil's whelp,
Had her for sure.
But what a place
That garden must have been! bad 'cess
To them that lost it for us -- aye!
And let them boo, and let them cry,
Had to turn out that very minute --
A garden! Why, God was walkin' in it
In the cool of the day, the Bible's tellin' --
Dear me! the grand it must ha' been smellin'!
Talk of gardens! talk of loss!
But what a donkey that Adam was
Hidin' himself aback o' the bushes,
Him and Eve, like a pair of big thrushes,
And only -- but bless me! the foolishness!
But loss the place! loss the place!

The garden, aye! the garden of Eden --
But an orchard too -- the way we're readin'
About yandhar fruit, and the ter'ble desi'ble
For food and that, but scandlus li'ble
To die if you eat. But the Ballaquine
Had a orchard -- aw dear! but -- never mind!
There's no doubt but God Himself might ha' walked
In yandhar place, and heard what was talked.

Sooreyin'? yes, sooreyin'!
I'll tell ye what it is, my men --
You don't understand -- this gel was gud,
And so was Jack: there's love that's mud,
Not love -- I know, I know, Bill Mat,
Ah! no need to tell me o' that!
But love that'll take a gel, and liff her
To the heaven of heavens, that's the differ;
No black disgrace, but pure, man, pure
As the sthrames that gathers in old Ballure --
Why wouldn' God be with the lek?
Walkin', list'nin', I expeck,
Aye, and blessin' -- fruits and flowers.
What are they all to the hearts that pours
All their joy and all their love
Into one another? God above!
An honest gel and an honest lad!
Can Thou see them, and not be glad?
Thou sees, Thou knows, Thou loves them -- aye!
Every kiss and every sigh,
Every sigh and every kiss,
Even if it's not in Genesis.

Be happy then, my lovin' birds!
God bless true sweethearts! them's the words --
A holier thing, and no mistake in,
He navar made in all His makin' --
True as steel -- but don't forget,
God's walkin' in the garden yet!

Queer sooreyin'? you're thinkin', eh?
Well that depends, as one may say,
On who you are, and what you are --
Of coorse! of coorse! my man-o'-war!
There's sarpints in the garden too,
Aw, as common as how-d'ye do!
Yis! and howavar the happy you'll be,
It's well to remember Him that can see
Your very heart, and if it's clane,
He'll make you twice as happy again.

Ter'ble religious I got on the sudden?
Jemmy, ate your own pudden,
Do now, do! it 'd be a dale batter;
You don't know much about the matter,
Not much, I think. There was used to be once
A thing they was callin' innocence --
Now then, Jemmy! It's God that picks them,
These lovers, and He stands betwix' them;
Every look, and every breath
Is God's; they're faithful unto death,
Because God is faithful; not thinkin' of Him,
Lek enough, but Him of them
Sartin sure. No saint wasn' Jack,
Nor Nessy ither, lek you'll see in a track --
No! but only the nither 'd ha' seen
The other in trouble for the wealth of the Queen;
And if it had happened, I'll tell ye what --
Jack 'd ha' cut his throat like a shot,
And Nessy's too -- bless ye! outragers!
Hot as fire! so that's the relajers!

Yes, and still this Nessy was tazin' him
Despard though, aw, nearly crazin' him --
And touch-me-not! and sniffs and snuffs,
And sulks and sulks, and huffs and huffs.
And was the Lord betwix' them then?
Aisy! with them? with them, my men?
With them? with them? . . . and what for wouldn' He?
With them! with them! and what for shouldn' He?
With them! with them! -- sartinly!
And d----- it all! don't talk to me!
D'ye hear?
But lizzen now what will folla --
This Harry was chiced for a dooiney-molla,
Chiced complate; and went with Jack
Every night -- aw, he wouldn' be slack!
Givin' up all notion of Nessy,
Aw, aisy-goin' urrov messy!
And made up his mind it wasn' no use,
And dooiney-mollain' like the deuce.

Fuss-rate -- ye see the chap
Wasn' worth the smallest scrap
At lovin', no! it was dooiney-mollain'
That he was good for, follain', follain',
Buckin' up, lek what you'd call a --
Well, you know----- a dooiney-molla --
That's it -- lek semperthisin'
Pirriful -- aw, quite surprisin' --
Yis -- lek lovin' just to be theer,
Just to lizzen -- this Harry Creer --
Aye, and, every kiss that was go'n',
Just to give a little moan
Urrov him, very low and soft,
Or maybe a little bit of a cough
Or the lek; but keepin' as close as close,
That he wouldn' be missin' the smallest ghost
Of a sound or a sigh, and laenin' his chin
On Jack's shouldher, and lizzenin',
Lizzenin' -- and his breath goin' pourin'
Agen Jack's ear, and had to be cow'rin'
Rather -- stoopin', ye know, for the big
He was compared to Jack; and 'd twig
Every little hitch that was clickin',
And Jack's heart that was goin' a tickin'
Like a clock. And Nessy up in the windher,
But none so high; and Jack to meandher
Some dodge to get nearer, to hould her hand
When she'd stretch it down, you'll understand.

And sometimes he'd get a-top of a tub,
Or anything that was handy, a scrub
Of a trammon that was growin' there --
Aw, lave him alone! aw, navar fear!
Bless ye! he was soople was Jack;
And sometimes gettin' on Harry's back,
And standin' on Harry's shouldher, and flingin'
His arms round Nessy's neck, and bringin'
Her face to his in the very middle
Of the honeysuckles -- aw then the thriddle
Of thrimblin' that shivered the back of this Harry --
Semperthisin' -- bless ye! very --
Semperthisin' -- didn' I say?
Semperthisin' anyway.
"Get down!" says Nessy, "don't ye see
That Harry is tired?" -- "Not me! not me!"
And just like a mason with his hod,
As stiff -- and beggin' for the love of God
They'd go on; and gevvin' a surt of a coo --
"Aw keep it up! aw do! aw do!"
And as strong as a bull, and wouldn' be beat.
But sweethearts can't be allis like that,
With a fellow to lizzen to all they're say'n' --
Bless your sowl! the thing is plain --
Can't: so sometimes Harry had orders
To stand a bit off aback o' some borders,
Or under the biggest apple-tree.
So there this dooiney-molla 'd be,
Very patient, but strainin', strainin'
To hear the coortin,' and lek enough rainin',
Or snowin', or blowin' --
Dear me! what's the odds? No knowin'
The happy Harry was, just to be catchin'
The smallest whisper; like a hen when she's hatchin',
Sittin' that quite; but the little sweep
Is liz'nin' too for some sign of a cheep
At one of the eggs -- aw, 'deed she is.
And so this Harry; and if he heard a kiss,
Which of coorse he did, and raisonable,
He'd moan the softest he was able --
Like a flute he'd moan, like a flute! surprisin'!
Semperthisin', semperthisin'.

So -- very well! very well!
Aye -- but now I've got somethin' to tell,
That you'll maybe be wondhrin' the change, d'ye hear!
The change that come on Harry Creer
The aunt -- the aunt; aye! that's the woman --
Misthriss Banks, and hemmin' and hummin',
And hintin'----- but wait a bit----- a wedda
She was, and lived above the medda
At the Ballaquine -- a kind of a 'cess
Up there, bein' rather a boosely place;
And the house like these sheds where the herrin's is saltin'
At Derby Haven -- a reg'lar thalthin!
Herself and her son was livin' there,
But how she was livin'----- well, I'll swear
I don't know, and still I do.
Ye see, he was an aisy man, was Brew;
But he wouldn' have her in the house,
No he wouldn'; and the wuss of his cows
He gave her -- and just a bit of a crof'
T' other side of the gill that was wallin' off
From the farm, lek separate, more of a Lhergy
Than anything else. And a chap called Curghey
Was jinin' next to her -- Curphey -- says Jem --
Curghey and Curphey's all the same --
Miser'ble land, hafe rock, hafe feerins
And the rest of it cushags, and havin' its bearin's
Nor'-west of the Ballaquine. But she didn'
Live on her land, let alone her midden,
Nor the cow; for the cow was starvin' with her,
And the croft it navar got nothin' ither,
No care, nor 'tintion: not much for work
Wasn' Misthriss Banks. If she'd had the Perk
Of Barrule -- Llewellyn's? to be sure!
Owned at William Fyne Moor --
She'd ha' been just the same. So how then, how
Was the woman livin'? Don't make a row!
I'll tell ye; the woman was livin' on a pension
From a sartin party we'd best not mention --
She done his work, and she earned his wages,
Aw, that's the terms the ould chap engages-----
He's got his grip o' them -- touch for touch --
A wutch? Of coorse she was a wutch,
And a black wutch, the wuss that's goin' --
The white is----- well, I'm hardly knowin'
Is the lek in: but these ould things
That's sellin' charms to sailors, rings,
Papers, ye know -- why, bless my sowl!
Here's one at me -- it's middlin' oul',
Wore I don't know the teens of years
On my heart here, look, la! Sally Tear's
The woman that sould it -- in Castletown --
Queen Street -- aye -- and half-a-crown . . .
I 'spose the most of ye's got the lek
Somewhere hung around your neck.

But there's odds of charms; for some is just
A surt of a blessin'; but some is a cuss,
Most bitther, brewed in the very gall
Of spite and hate, and'll creep and crawl
Over your body and over your sowl,
Aye, man! aye! at laste so I'm tould --
And through and through, and makin' you sick,
And makin' you mad -- aw, they know the trick!
Cussin' your fingers and cussin' your toes,
Cussin' your mouth and cussin' your nose,
Every odd jint, and every limb,
And all your inside -- that's the thrim --
Cussin' your horse and cussin' your cow,
Cussin' the boar and cussin' the sow --
Everything that's got a tail;
Aye, and your spade, and your cart, and your flail,
Plough and harras, stock and crop,
Nets and lines -- they'll navar stop --
Treminjis cussin' -- charms? yis!
But writin' -- no! but spit and hiss
And mutter and mumble -- that's your surt!
Rags that's tore from the divil's ould shirt --
He'll claim his own. You'll be passin' by,
And not a word, but the evil eye --
There ye are! you're struck, they've done ye!
They've got ye -- you're tuk! they've put it upon ye --
Aw, boosely shockin'! And harbs! they picks them
The right time of the moon, and they'll take and mix them --
I've seen this woman myself goin' pryin'
Under the hedges, and stoopin' and spyin';
And if she seen me, she'd give a gurn
Most horrid at me. Yis, and they'll burn,
And they'll fry and they'll stew, and makin' faces --
What is it they won't do? -- Brutes o' bases!
I know their par and I know their mar --
Divils! divils! that's what they are!
And should be tuk and burnt the way
They used to be -- by gough, I'll lay
You'd smell the brimstone -- you would so --
But no justice now, nor nothin' -- no!
Ter'ble changes -- takin' and slammin' them
In the Lunertic Asylum -- crammin' them
With the best o' good livin', and rates and taxes,
And a doctor, and anything they axes --
At the Sthrang there -- aye! and a mortal buildin',
And the money flyin', and carvin' and gildin',
And a fine sittervation, ter'ble airy-----
And hip-hooraa for Robby Fairy!
"Down with the taxes!" says Robby, "bad luck with them!"
Taxes! aw, Robby'll have no truck with them.

But the 'sylum wasn' thought of then;
And she wasn' threescore years and ten,
Wasn' Misthriss Banks, nor sixty ither,
But 'stonishin' the way they'll wither --
The lek -- aw, a reg'lar flibberty gibberty
Surt of a woman, and liked her liberty,
Aye, and tuk it. And when she was drest
And titervated all in her best,
And her white stockin', and her lastin' slipper,
I tell ye she looked a reg'lar clipper,
Tasty uncommon at Hollantide fair
Or the lek -- aw, the tastiest woman there --
Painted, ye know -- aw, lips and cheeks,
Like plaster just, lek goin' in streaks,
Like varnish mostly, like polish, like size;
And I don't know what the divil she was doin' to her eyes --
Like a play-acthur. So with all this criss-crosserin'
And dabbin' and grainin' and pink-saucerin',
You'd hardly thought, of the whole bilin',
You got the blackest wutch on the Islan'.

But still we hev it in Revelation
And about the cup of abomination --
And -- the blood of the saints----- and goin' a dressin'
In a scarlet frock, like a foreign pessin --
A bad lot that----- and Jezebel,
Lookin' out at the windher -- aw, a despard swell!
And painted her face, and tired her head --
"Fling her down!" this Jehu said --
"Fling her down!" and tuk and swung her --
One -- two -- "Fling!" aw, by gough they flung her.
Aw, Jehu was mortal boosely though --
You mind the heads there all in a row,
Seventy of them at the gate,
And kings' sons, and lekly as nate
As a pin, and the hair of them just like silk,
And comin' in in the mornin' with the milk --
Aw, Jehu----- well, I hav'n' a word
To say -- but still----- ye see, the Lord --
So lave it alone; but, of a rule,
Them ould kings was middlin' cru'l.

Misthriss Banks! Misthriss Banks!
Aw, a big long woman, thin in the flanks,
That, when she was up to these divil's pranks,
It had ha' took Ould Harry himself to hould her --
High in the hips, and high in the shoulder --
Yes, and I was tellin' just now
The stunnin' she looked, and the when and the how,
And round the Cape, and past Bigode,
And cock her up! and clear the road!
And in on the fair -- The Hills? eh, what?
Sartinly! the ould spot.
And rings and rings, and silk and satin,
Aw, as grand as grand! and goin' a traitin'
At the lads, of coorse. But the evenin'
Was another pair of oars, my men.
Screwed? is it screwed? dead drunk, if ye plaze,
Like a bustin' tar-barrel all in a blaze
Of cussin' and blastin', and laughin' and cryin'
And singin' -- aw, if you'd only ha' heard her!
And a splash and a mash, and kickin' and lyin'
In a surt of a midden of muck and murder!
Foamin', frothin', splitter-splutter,
Like fits, like possessed -- aw, roult in the gutter;
Somethin' lek it's put in the Acts --
I don't azackly remember the facts,
But a woman that shouted, and lek enough whopt to't
At the scamps that kep' her; but Paul put a stop to't.

Not much of a 'sample for Nessy, you'll say --
Well, hardly, hardly anyway.
So that's the raison Brew wouldn' hev her
In the house arrim theer, and tuk and gev her
The thalthan -- wouldn' hev her, no!
Wouldn'! wouldn'! wouldn' though!

Did I tell you about the chile she had?
Job he was callin' -- a lump of a lad
Them times, but younger till his cousin.
Short was Job -- of his body he wasn';
But short of wit -- the innercent
Ye navar -- that's the way I meant --
Soft, no doubt, aw soft; but grew
A splandid falla; soft, but true
As steel, and gud, and full of grace,
And a beautiful face! a beautiful face!
Aw, the gentle! aw, the sweet!
I tell ye what -- you wouldn' meet
The lek of Job on a long day's march --
No you wouldn' -- and as straight as a larch --
Lovely made -- and the big blue eye,
Aw, fit to make a body cry!
And grew----- but that was years and years
Afterwards----- avast these tears --
Look at me! -- another night
I'll give you Job----- all right! all right!
Aw, a ter'ble story----- but he wears the robe --
Washed, ah washed! poor Job! poor Job!

But the nither Job nor the mother was gettin'
Admission to Brew's, except she'd be lettin'
In at Nessy on the sly,
When Brew was in bed -- aw, she wouldn' be shy
Wouldn' yandhar; but freckened enough
Of Brew that cud be despard rough,
For all the aisy; but freckened though,
Freckened himself -- aw, I'd have ye to know!
Freckened thallure; for he knew she could wither
The heart of him into ould shoe-leather,
Or any other divilment --
Witchin', wutchin', wherever she went,
Wutchin' sartin; but kep' it off
With this thalthan, and the cow, and the crof' --
He had her there, and middlin' safe,
He was thinkin' -- aye, but didn' hafe
Like the thing; and made up his mind
She shouldn' get in on the Ballaquine,
Her nor her child.
But the woman was fond
Uncommon of Nessy -- or was it the bond,
And Nessy in it; unknownst, of coorse,
To herself? but anyway such a foorce
She done of charms there, early and late,
That she put the comedher on Nessy complate,
Clane comedher, harpooned, and haulin' it --
Fascernation the Pazon was callin' it --
Fascernation -- and might have been --
"Kayar! kayar!" says ould M'Queen,
"That'll bring her up" -- and maybe it will:
Tremenjers though, aw terrible!
Kayar, for the strong it was houldin' the gel,
And spun from nothin' but the wind of hell --
That's the Kayar! and wasn' it a pity?
Poor thing! the sweet and the pretty,
And the lovin' too, and a d----- ould cat
To have her in her power like that!

So she tuk a notion of a surt of suppoortin'
Nessy, like a shuperintendin' the coortin',
Lek backin', lek watchin', lek a kind of encouragin';
And waitin' till dark, and goin' a furragin'
About the house; and creep and creep --
And aisy to tell if Brew was asleep
With the snorin', bless ye! And -- "Come in! come in!"
And whisperin' and whisperin';
And a bit of supper: and then Nessy'd say
"Time for bed" -- and -- "Let me stay!
Aw, let me! let me!" And only right --
And her aunt and all -- and "Good-night! good-night!"
At Nessy. Aw, then she'd dart in her ear
Most despard cusses -- navar fear!
And tellin' the charms she had on Jack --
She could turn ev'ry bit of his body black --
She could make him hate her -- poor Nessy Brew!
Nothin' she couldn' and wouldn' do!

And the gel, you know, as freckened as freckened,
Because of coorse she navar reckoned
But Misthriss Banks could do the jeel
She was braggin' she could, and she'd take and kneel
On her bended knees, and she'd cuss -- the baste!
Cuss the very skin off your face --
But low, very low, that Brew wouldn' wake --
A surt of a spittin' like this new kind of brake
They've got on the railways -- air brake, is it?
The dirty thing, goin' fizzit! fizzit!
And spittin' there. So up to the room!
She should ha' been cocked on a lump of a broom
Sky-high -- the ould Turk!
And then the comedher'd begin to work;
And she'd coax, and she'd clapse, and she'd play the deuce,
Till the poor thing was gettin' all a confuse,
Lek foolish lek; and she'd kiss and she'd cuddle,
Till Nessy's head'd be all in a muddle --
Swimmin lek, lek heavy -- aye!
And when Jack'd appear, poor Nessy'd sigh,
And come to the window. But the wutch'd be lookin'
Over her shouldher -- and crouchin' and crookin' --
All eyes and ears -- but the hitch on the tongue,
Lek the ould moon keekin' behind the young,
You know -- and the little thing middlin' shy
To step out there in the big broad sky
Before all the stars -- like a panerrammer,
Mostly. But the ould one -- damn her!
She's up to no good that ever I knew,
At least for the likes of me and you.

But -- wutches in front, dooiney-mollas aback --
What surt of coortin' was that for Jack?
No coortin' at all. And bore it wanst,
And bore it twicet; and then he danced
With ragin' fury -- Such dirt goin' muckin'
About the gel, he said, and suckin',
Yes, he said, suckin' her blood,
Like a spider a fly, or makin' crud
Of it altogether; and where would it stop?
Drainin' her heart to the last drop --
Ouite aisy to see -- the gel gettin' white
Most pitiful -- a reg'lar blight
On the gel, he said. He could feel her drawin'
Back and back, lek some divil was clawin'
And pullin' her theer, and furder and furder,
Lek innards someway, lek some hole of murder
They were haulin' her into: yis, and lavin'
Just a shape, lek a surt of a graven
Image of Nessy at the windher,
And herself goin' burnin' into tindher,
In some place at these divils -- aye tuk and hove her
In a pit, and roullin' her over and over
On coals of fire -- and hotter and hotter --
Yis, yis, yis -- and where had they got her?
That wasn' Nessy -- and he'd hev his revenge
And he'd stop this work, and this wutch should senge
In the deepest of hell herself. And he spoke
Middlin' plain; and it wasn' no joke
For him, he said, nor for Nessy, he said:
And -- "Go home with ye! go! go home to bed!
Who's wantin' ye here -- with your skinny throat?
You're a big black wutch, and I'd have ye to know't."

So the Banks to go and Jack to stay.
But the coortin' was bruk at them anyway,
That night at least; for the aunt was gone
Like whisked through the keyhole; but Nessy was done,
Done complate, and trimblin' theer
Most awful. And -- "Darlin'!" and "Navar fear!"
At Jack; but no use, and tuk and crept
Back in her bed, but never slept,
And worked at this wutch like the say is workin'
With a tidesway, and all her body jerkin'
And tossin' like a fever; and oh!
What would she do? And she'd go, she'd go
First thing in the mornin', she muss! she muss!
And coax her that she wouldn' cuss
This Jack. But still the gel was fearin'
The cuss'd be done afore daylight appearin' --
Burnin' somethin', or raisin' the divil,
Or God knows what. And why wasn' he civil?
Civil, just civil! Aw Jack then! Jack then!
The pity! And -- Would she call him back then?
Back! back! back! And jumps to the windher --
But Jack was gone. "He'll be burned to a cindher,"
Says Nessy -- poor sowl! You see, she knew
The despard things these wutches can do
On all your body -- aw, horrid they can!
Horrid, I tell ye. But that was the plan,
For Jack was for bustin' in the door,
No matter whether Brew to snore
Or not to snore. "Who knows if she's dyin'?"
And even to think of her theer a lyin'!
God bless him! And he made a run, but caught
At Harry straight, that said he thought
They'd better make haste, you know, and give sheet
After this wutch. And over the street,
And over the hedges and over the ditches,
And away for the Gill, but Harry got stitches
In his side or the lek, and puffin' and pantin',
And couldn' hould on, and began a slantin'
For the road, bein' middlin' freckened she'd come
In some shape or another, like a corpse, by gum!
Or a modda-doo, goin' bawwawin',
Or a tarroo-ushtey, or a muck-awin,
Or -- "Stop!" he says, "aw, stop then! stop!"
And -- Bless his sowl! he was like to drop;
And a cow gave a cough -- aw, Harry roared,
And Harry screeched, and Harry implored,
And Jack that bothered he had to give in;
And the two of them home with a safe skin
To Harry's lodgin', and slept together,
But beat, and feelin' foolish rather.

The day was hardly bruk when Nessy
Was up to the Gill, and beggin' for messy,
And for all the sakes! and what she would give her;
And couldn' they be as thick as ever?
And Jack was onpatient, but Jack was gud;
And she'd give her anything! yes, she wud!
She'd give her her brooch and her beautiful pin,
And her clasp, and the rael gool sovereign
She got in her box, and a velvet belt
That was speckled with flowers, and the buckle gilt
Most lovely -- aye! poor thing! poor thing!
And ribbons and scarfs! "Will you give me the ring
You've got on your finger then?" says the aunt --
Her mother's weddin'-ring she meant --
"Will you give me that?" Then Nessy shook
All over, and she gave a look
At the woman, and aw, the pitiful!
And then at the ring, and begun to pull,
And stopped, and pulled, and stopped again,
And the tears come pourin' down like rain;
And she snuggled her hand agin her breast,
And kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed --
The ring, of coorse, and looks up at the aunt,
And just a whisper -- "I can't! I can't! --
I seen him take it . . . take it," she said,
"From her finger . . . -- and the straight in the bed . . .
And the cowld, auntie, the cowld! the cowld! . . ."
And the poor gel shivered. But the aunt to rowl
Her eyes like wheels, and her body stretched
To the full of her height, and tuk and retched
All over the child, till she fell right down,
Like stiff, like dead -- aw, then I'll be bound
She had her up and in her lap,
And hushee bowbabbied, and on the tree-top,
In a minute -- aye, and stooped lek to cover her,
And sthrooghin' her theer, and breathin' over her
The wutches breath, and hummin' charms
In her ear; and all the strain of her arms,
And the warmth, and the squeeze, and the curl, and the ply
Of all her body, till Nessy to sigh,
And Nessy to move. And then . . . and then . . .
She'd got another plan, my men.

"Aw no!" she said, "well no then! no!
Aw, not the ring! but . . . lizzen though!
Lizzen . . . the key of the ould man's chist"
(Her father) . . . "five pound wouldn' be missed
Urrov yandhar lot." . . . Could she get the key?
And . . . sometime he'd be out of the way . . .
What? Aw, Nessy gave a spring,
And "Take it! take it! take the ring!
For God's sake! take it! take it! take it!
Here! here! will that do? will that make it
All right?" she says; "you'll not wutch him --
Jack, you won't?" -- "I'll never touch him,"
Says Mrs. Banks; and she'd come next night
For the other things. So Nessy tuk flight
Like a partridge: and -- "She driv me! she driv me!"
And "Mother! mother! forgive me! forgive me!"
Poor Nessy! and all the way she was goin'
She was sighin' and sobbin' and makin' her moan --
"This is love!" she said, "and the nice it'd be
If it wasn' for the misery!"

And I'll tell ye what, the gel had raison,
She had, aw yes! for it's just amazin'
The work that's with it. But still for all
Who'd be without it? to stand or to fall,
The sweet with the bitter! But the poor young things,
That's feelin' love like birds feels wings,
And ups like the lark, and love to crown them
With joy, and the sun all round and round them --
And then comes hail and frost and snow,
And the thunders rowl, and the winds they blow --
Aw dear, the poor birds! It's better, you'd think,
To have nothin' to do with it? Chink-chink-chink!
Chunk-chunk-chunk! Well, of coorse ye needn':
Bless ye! there's different sorts of feedin' --
Pigs isn' larks, not them; and still
Pigs is very comfible --
Jine the pigs! it's the easiest way,
Shove your snout in the trough, and suck away!

Now Nessy had ha' done much batthar
If she'd ha' come and tould the matthar
To me. For I was young, that's true,
But still I was gran' for advisin': there's few
Could ha' beat me, no! And of coorse I'd ha' gone
And tould the Pazon, and the thing had been done
At once -- God bless ye! sartinly!
The Pazon! done? my goodness me!
But I suppose I was too young
For a gel like her to have took and brung
Her sorrow to -- it was years and years,
After all her hopes and all her fears
Was settled lek, she was tellin' me,
Aw, no mistake, and as free as free --
Tellin' -- bless ye! tellin' uncommon --
Aw, I knew the woman! I knew the woman!
Jack? well . . . Jack . . . go tellin' him?
Not her! not her! This despard limb
Was no good for advisin' -- lovin', yes --
But that's another sort of guess --
Lovin' -- and dooiney-mollain' too --
Well, you see, it'd hardly do --
It's not what they're for, being wanted to praise
A chap to his sweetheart -- let them keep their place
These dooiney-mollas, not 'visin' her --
Lek I tould ye, eh? that's not what they're fur.
And as for Harry -- Harry advisin'?
Bless ye! Harry was stupid supprisin'.
No, it was me -- aw, never fear!
But still it couldn' be; so . . . theer!

And did she come down in the evenin'
For the rest of the things? Aye did she then,
And had them too, most sartinly,
And as good as money, and away on the spree
To Ramsey, and not a public-house
Goin' or comin' that this boosely throuss
Didn' have her dhrop. So Crow,
That was drivin' the coach, he found her though
Next mornin' at King Orry's grave,
Drunk as a fish, and tuk and gave
Her a tip with his whip, and waked her up --
Aw, fond of a sup! fond of a sup!

But she kept her word though -- curious!
Not the smallest taste of a cuss
Done on Jack, by night or by day;
But she worked the job another way --
'Deed she did though, worked it gran' --
Bless ye! Harry was her man.
Sent for Harry to come and see her,
Which he went, but in ter'ble fear,
Aw, mortal uncommon! But -- "Come in!" she says,
"And a cup of tay; and nice it is
To see a friend," and all to that --
And Harry lookin' hard at the cat,
And all about, and wondherin'
Where was she keepin' the rum and the gin,
And her dirts and her divilments -- in crocks,
Harry was thinkin', or -- was it a box?
Or bladders was it? or under her clothes,
Or hid in the floor, or goodness knows!
Up the chimley lek enough,
And'd come to take him by the scruff,
All of a sudden, as black as ink --
The divil -- aye -- didn' know what to think.
But the place was swept, you know, and clane,
And the taypot singin', and pinjane --
And the kettle you might have seen your face in't,
And everything as dacent as dacent --
Till Harry took heart, and eat like a melya,
Made a very good tay, I tell ye.

And they talked of the croft, and they talked of the garden,
And they talked of her son, that was only herdin'
Yet, she said; but she hoped he'd soon
Have a job at the mines, and then he'd be do'n' --
At an engine, perhaps, but hard to tell,
And the cows was shuitin' him very well,
And away on the mountains mostly he was,
Herdin' for Clague's of the Ballacross,
And only home at odds of time,
Just that Clague would take and try'm --
And a child, you know, and couldn' expec',
And rather weak in his interlec'.
But not so bad. "But, Harry Creer,
How is it there's some not far from here
That's got pluck and wit, and all the rest,
And handsome chaps, and a match for the best,
And still they don't see it? Plenty of sanse
And everything . . . and don't see their chance,
Don't see it . . . but there's some that does,
Sees it plain does some of us."
And then she set upon him, and -- Who
Was this Jack Pentreath? and Nessy Brew!
Bless her sowl then! was he blind?
Nessy at the Ballaquine!
Nessy . . . cravin' for him! Jack?
Nonsense! nonsense! just a pack
Of stuff and nonsense, a trick, a dodge
To get to be with Harry -- fudge!
Make a fool of him? No, she wudn',
But worshippin' the ground he stood on.

Aw, she worked him well, till the chap was gapin'
With his mouth like an oyster, the way she was shapin'
The fool to her plan. "By gough!" says Harry,
"I'll try it this night, and aisy -- very --
To try" -- and Sartinly! that's it!
Buck up! buck up a bit!
And he'd soon see. And that little black imp
To be coortin' Nessy! a surt of a shrimp
Of a cockcroach coortin' Nessy! No!
And -- he-he-he! and ho-ho-ho!
"It's you, Harry, idikkilis!
And the handsome ye are! and give me a kiss----
There now, Harry! and spake to him, will ye!
Spake to him! spake to him, m'gilya!"

Poor Harry! aw, kissed her fair and fit,
But wiped his mouth, and gave a spit
When he got outside, bein' freckened, poor chap!
What pison'd come from the divil's trap
Of a mouth, that wasn' a bad mouth ither --
Not ugly, I mean, but well-looked rather.

So that night no wutch; but Nessy like chalk,
And Harry first goin' up the walk;
And -- "Wait!" he says to Jack, "just wait!
You see, I've been thinkin' a dale of late,
And I don't know azackly, but still I'm wantin'
To have a understandin' or sonthin' --
A understandin' -- that's the tee,
A understandin' is it you, is it me.
I'm not for no more dooiney-mollerin',
I've had enough of humbuggin' and follerin';
And I've raison to think -- for I've heard at them
That knows -- that Nessy is . . . well . . . ahem . . .
Gettin' rather fond --" "Of you?"
Says Jack; "all right! that'll do! that'll do!"
And darts to the windher, and just a word
To Nessy, that maybe hardly heard
What was it he said, the treih she was,
Poor thing! and turns, and gives a toss
With his head. "Now then," he says, "now then!
I've said good-night: down glen! down glen!
This must be looked to." And the fiery he spoke
Poor Harry seen it wasn' no joke,
And had to go. And directly they come
Upon the road -- aw, sword and drum!
At it! at it! tongue, not fisses --
Jack's tongue mostly; and "I insisses,"
Says Jack, "you'll 'splain the for and the how,
And what the deuce you're meanin' -- now,
Now," he says, "go on!" But he didn'
Wait for Harry. "Turn up the midden!
Turn it up!" he says; but he turned
The midden up hisself. And he girned,
And he stamped, and he called him all the names
That ever was called. And -- Fire and flames!
What was this? And -- Was he mad?
Or what was he? Was it a divil he had?
Possessed? was that it? limb from limb!
Nessy gettin' fond of him!
And -- Aw, the fool! and aw, the ungrateful!
And -- Aw, the donkey! and aw, the decateful!
And -- Aw, the horrid! and aw, the hateful!
"Me that was lettin' ye come spoortin'
Under the shadder of my coortin'!
Me that was lettin' ye see the white
She was in the moon! and standin' quite
Near, near! Didn' I let ye?
And feelin' her breath -- and didn' I set ye
To spake to her too? and what could ye spake?
And warn't ye hangin' on my neck,
And her face agin mine, and smellin', smellin'
Love's very flower, and hearin' me tellin'
The deepest saycrets of my heart?
And never to stir and never to start,
And never to make the smallest objection,
But delighted, ye said, to see the affection,
And the sweet soft coo there was in, ye said,
It was music fit to wake the dead --
And never tired, and tit for tat,
And purrin' there like a big tom-cat
The satisfied! But now I see!
Is it you? or is it me?
Listen then, if you want to know!
It's me, you thund'rin' lump of dough!
You ideit!" and on like crazy.
But Harry could only get in an "Aisy!"
Now and then -- "Aisy!" he'd say,
"Aisy for all!" lek a sort of a way
To be hum'rin' the chap. And hotter and hotter!
Till Harry must ha' been made of botter,
Or porridge or somethin', if he could have bore
The jaw any longer. And at last he swore
He wouldn' stand it, and took and gript
This Jack, that ducked, and dipt, and slipt,
And quivered, and danced; but couldn' hould him:
And Jack made a run for Harry, and bowled him
Over like a cock, and on to him,
And kep' him under, that was aisy done to him,
Bein' heavy, and Jack like a bull pup,
And pinned him, and wouldn' let him up
Till Harry would ax. And then they stood
The two of them out of breath: and the blood
From Harry's nose, lek after an action
Two ships. And "You'll give me satisfaction,"
Says Harry -- "eh?" And -- the where and the when,
And the how. "At the mouth of the Dragon's den,"
Says Jack; "let's see which 'll put the other
Down the ould pit, and finish this bother.
For you know d----- well whichever 'll lose
That bout," says Jack, "he'll have a long snooze
Down there, he will. Now then, d'ye see!
It's death! it's death 'twixt you and me!
Will you try the fall, my bloomin' boss?
Hands on it, Harry!" So it's hands it was.

The very next night no coortin' in --
No, and Nessy wondherin' --
And no sooner they were off their shiff
Than the two of them there to climb the cliff
Under the Dragon's den, that was high
Up the mountain, and not very nigh
To the new workin's -- a lonely place,
And savage, if there ever was --
An ould shaft they'd worked out
Long ago, and nothin' about,
No timb'rin' nor the lek, just a hole,
And fifty fathom -- no, not coal,
Lead, lead, like all these mines,
And worked accordin' to the finds.
And when they're findin' nothin' more,
They never don't do nothin' to her
To make her safe, no more till a quarry --
So that was the spot for Jack and Harry.

They were at it still when I come down
From the side of Snaefell, and I'll be bound --
Me? yes, me; from Sulby over,
Sulby Claddagh -- Tommy Red-clover,
They were callin' the chap, and married that day,
And axed to the weddin', and couldn' stay,
And the sober amazin'. So on and on,
Souljerin' lek, and thinkin' the fun
I was leavin' behind, till I come in my cruisin'
Where the Northside gels is puttin' their shoes on
When they're goin' to Laxey fair --
Till they get up yandhar, aw, bless ye! as bare
As an egg; but there -- aw, I've seen them arrit
Afore now, aw, I have! and some like a carrot
That red, and others like white stone
The smooth and the shiny -- but----- lave it alone!

Comin', I tell ye, and the sun was set,
And the moon was rose, but hidin' yet
Aback o' Slieu Lhean, that was throwin' a shaddhar
Ter'ble black below me. The Laddhar
They're callin' that slope. And I had to steer
Middlin' careful, you know, to clear
The Dragon's den. So -- no humbuggin'!
I thought I heard a despard tuggin',
No thrashin', no smashin', no click o' the clogs,
No trampin' like bulls, no raggin' like dogs,
But ugh-ugh-ugh, like the chaps is goin'
When they're workin' a blast-hole -- it's lekly you're knowin' --
Ugh-ugh-ugh----- I didn' lek it,
I tell ye, at all -- how could you expeck it?
How did I know that it wasn' bogganes,
That's after takin' up these glens,
Or the ould chap himself with some of his friends
Agate of their shindies -- aw, might have been,
Might! But I crep' a bit nearer, and seen
There was two of them arrit; and the nearer I crep' --
Harry! Jack!
Aw, at them I lep',
At them! on them! "Divils! divils!
What's this? what's this?" But they turned like swivels,
And the bank was givin' way, and the muck
Rattlin' down, the way its shook
On a coffin at a funeral --
And the two of them twisted like a ball --
Couldn' get them out of grips,
Couldn' -- and Jack to stagger, and slips,
And Harry swings him out right over
The mouth of the pit, and could hardly recover
Hisself; but held on -- aw, didn' let go!
Wouldn' ha' done it -- no, no, no!
Couldn', for the matter of that;
For Jack was stuck to him like a rat
To a terrier's nose. So I seen my chance,
And I gript this Harry -- "Now then, once --
Twice -- three times!" I said, and these rips
Come in on the grass, but still in grips.
And I couldn' have done it, but Harry helped,
And glad enough. Aw, navar was whelped,
A good-natureder chap! But done they were,
Done complate, aw, done I'll swear --
Not the half of a breath in the two of them.
So the moon come up, and I took a view of them --
"Well you're a pair of beauties!" I says;
"Come! drop these grips! I tell ye you'd best!"
But they couldn', no! they could only lie
In each other's arms.
And Jack gave a sigh,
And so did Harry: but I got some water,
And I slished it on them. And Jack held tauter
Till Harry; but at last they were sundhered,
And you'll aisy suppose it's me that wondhered
What divil's work they'd had in hand;
And, as soon as ever they could stand,
I made the two of them look down
The shaft; and they seen it lighted round
Very clear with the moon, that was shinin' brave
And full by now -- "If you're wantin' a grave,
You'd batthar spake to the Clerk," I says,
"And get a comfortabler place
Than that," says I; "it's like a well
Dug down to the deepest depths of hell."
And it really looked most horrible,
The black and the deep! And Jack to shudder,
And turn away; and Harry's rudder
Not over studdy, but aised, it's lek,
Aised in his mind.
"And now be quick,
And on with your clothes!" For the chaps was bare
To the very buff -- aw, 'deed they were!
And the moonlight shinin' on their skin --
These naked divils -- astonishin'!
"On with your boots and your clothes!" Aw, the one of them
Wouldn' resist! aw, I took the command of them
Fuss-rate, I tell ye, uncommon though!
They were both that wake and 'zausted, ye know;
And had to give in.
But Jack was mad,
And wouldn' spake, like sulks he had --
Sullen, sulky. But Harry, so soon
As he got his wind in a bit, was in tune
For a talk, and talked, and tould me the row,
And he said they'd been at it from seven till now;
And what time would that be? And I looked at my watch --
The best of two hours! -- "Why murder's a patch
To divils like you," I says. "I doubt
It was swingin' in and swingin' out
All the time," says Harry, "wheelin'
Like a windmill," says Harry, "toein'-and-heelin',
Despard!" he said. And him to be houlin'
Jack right over, and rowlin' and rowlin',
But wouldn' dhrop him -- no! but try'n'
To haul him back from the mouth of the mine.
But he'd stick his feet agin the bank,
And stiffen his body like a plank
("I see ye," I says), and clitch and clutch,
And all along of a dirty wutch.

"A dirty wutch! what's that you say?"
(Jack spoke at last). "Round turn and belay!"
Says I to Harry: "hould on at that!
That's somethin' like business -- I know the cat!
Now," I says, "let's hear it, my son!"
Which immadient Harry done.
Says he -- "She tould me that Nessy Brew
Was lovin' me far more than you."

Jack danced, Jack danced -- half joy, half rage,
Clasps Harry round the neck, I'll engage,
Like the hangman's hug, and cried and cried,
And kissed him, first on the one side,
And then on the other, as quick as a treadle --
And Harry's big face as round as a griddle,
And the wondhrin' there! "I see it! I see it!"
Says Jack, "of coorse!" And a scream like a pewhit;
And----- the divil might give her a longish tether,
But blow him! he'd be even with her.

Well, I got them down to the washin' floors
Very friendly; and then these cures
Begun a schaemin' what would they plan --
And -- Would they try the Ballawhane?
And axin' me. "Aw, that's no use
At all," I says: "it's the very deuce,"
I says, "this wutchin' -- the horriderse goin',
Black, yes, black." But sure they were knowin'
The Ballawhane was workin' the white?
"Aw, diff'rin', bless ye! diff'rin' quite!
Lek cows and that -- and gives you some sperrit,
Or harbs in a bottle; and as soon as you'll gerrit
In your fiss, the baste, that's very lekly
Miles away, is batthar toreckly.
Aw, I've seen the ould chap, and the big book
And the wise he'll talk, and the sollum he'll look --
Aw, diff'rin', aw, that's understood --
Aw, doin' good, doin' good!
Aw, bless ye! the Ballawhane to wutch her!
Goodness grayshers! he couldn' touch her!
Wutchin' a wutch! aw, there's no sanse,
Sartinly not! Now, a little expanse,"
I says, "and you'll do her; yes, you will!
Do her as nice as pozzible --
Ned Kissack's gun -- I know he'd lend her --
Now then," I says, "what's goin' to hender
But we'll make a silver bullet for her --
A silver bullet -- there you've gorrer!
Melt some shillin's -- that's the way!
'Spansive? yes, but bound to pay!
That's your surt! Now, let's go spy'n'
The hedges on the Ballaquine,
And along to the Gill; and see if a hare
Or the lek is often takin' there --
The wutch -- as sure as eggs is eggs,
Fire at her legs! fire at her legs!
And she'll disappear: but lo and behould!
Up to the Gill! and -- Makin' so bould,
How are ye, Mrs. Banks, this mornin'?
Aw, limpin'! aw, I give you warnin'!
Limpin'! of coorse -- or a surt of a hop --
Limpin', aye limpin' all over the shop.
A silver bullet -- eh? Jack, my hearty!
That's the way to fix the party."

So we settled to try, and I down with my shillin',
Lek, contributin' -- aw, puffeck willin'!
Contributin' -- lek these meetin's they've got,
And golly this! and golly that! --
Missionaries -- and round with the hat --
'Cited rather -- and who would blame?
And longin' to be at the game.

"But," says Harry, "wutchin', I'll allow;
But me or Jack?" -- "It's Nessy now,
Nessy," I says; "aw that's the warp
She's agate of now; so you'd batthar look sharp."

So we got the shillin's, and we got the gun,
And we got a mould, and tuk and run
A bullet as big as a hymenanny,
Fit to dhrop the divil's granny.
And started a hare the first thing;
And Jack let dhrive, and she made a spring,
And away in the goss. "Hit! hit!" says I,
"Hit in the thigh! hit in the thigh!"
And up to the Gill the way we planned;
And there was Mrs. Banks as grand
As grand. And -- "What procures me the honour
Of this visit?" A reg'lar Primer Donner --
Aw, it's her that could. And "We want no talk,"
Says Jack, "but just let's see you walk."

Aw, she up and made a run at us,
And we cut like the mischief; and she gave a cuss;
And then she laughed like fit to split --
"She was never hit! she was never hit!"
Says Jack. "No! no!" says I, "I'll swear
There's no mistake you hit the hare.
But that ould caillagh dhu! what nex'!
Treminjis wutchin', xxx!"

And right I was; for there's wutches in
That actual don't care a pin
Not even for a silver bullet.
It's lek they've got an art to pull it
Aslant some way -- aw, black as tar!
Black! black! black! so there you are!

And was the coortin' over and done?
No, but, the winter comin' on,
It had to be in the house, you see;
And the dooiney-molla for company
For ould Brew, that liked him well --
This Harry. And sometimes they'd take a spell
At the paper they got, the Sun, or the Times,
Or Mona's Harral -- latthars, rhymes,
Speeches -- not much odds to them
What they had. And the ould chap's hem!
Ahem! dear me! and rubbin' and rubbin'
His specks; and the two of them goin' a clubbin'
Their heads together; but couldn' make much of it --
Ould Brew, it's lek, could make some surt of Dutch of it;
But Harry could only scratch his nut --
Didn' know B from a bull's foot.
And -- "Can you see it, Harry?" and Harry pretendin',
And hadn' azackly got his hand in,
No -- and another rub on his sleeve
At Brew, and eyein', and what to believe?
And -- was Harry humbuggin'? and 'spicious rather;
And then he'd dhrop it altogether.

But Harry could look, and Harry could smook,
Aw, bless ye! company for a duke
Was Harry -- fuss-rate! He'd a trick of spittin'
He larned of me, thought nothin' of hittin'
A fly on the wall, or a spark in the chimbley,
Any distance you like, the nimbly
You never saw. And the buzz and the bizz
And the 'twixt his teeth, and the fo'ce and the fizz
Like fireworks mostly; and his mouth like a flute,
All to make the puffeck skute --
For a chap from Dalby that way -- eh?
You'd hardly think now -- what did ye say?
Learnt from me? But a splendid scholar,
Aw, bless ye! baetin' his masthar holler --
Yes, he did, aw, beat complately --
Beat; and amusin' the old man greatly.
"Hit the rose on the side of that mug!"
Or "Spit through the handle of yandhar jug
On the dresser there!" or "Make a ring
Round yandhar cup!" He'd do the thing,
Would Harry, five times out of six.
But Nessy didn' like such tricks;
And she'd say -- "Now what are ye after there?
Behave, behave now, Henry Creer!"
And Harry to look a bit to one side,
And Brew to laugh till he fairly cried.
"What's the use o' talkin'! chat!
Jack couldn' do that! Jack couldn' do that,"
The ould man would say, and "I hope he cudn',"
Nessy would say, "and I hope he wudn'.
And even if so be it's allowed of,
It's nothin' to be so very proud of;
No!" and she wasn' takin' the huff!
And some people's manners was middlin' rough.

I believe in my heart the poor gel was ailin'
All over some way, like a surt of a failin',
Yes, even her temper a little touched --
Wutched? -- did ye say, of coorse she was wutched.
And wutched bad; why, a sweeter gel
Or a gennaler never bruk the shell.
Nat'ral lovin', nat'ral wishin'
To be kind, aw, a beautiful dispogition.
But now she was often quick and cross,
Sharp and short lek -- no, not sauce,
Not that! not that! but lek she'd been goin'
Awakin' up sudden, and hardly knowin'
Where was she at all; and the white her face!
And when Jack was puttin' his arm round her waist,
She'd start like needles runnin' through her,
And away from him, and get to the door,
And look out, and come back, and her eyes to stare
Like seein' somethin' that wasn' there --
Despard uncomfible! aw, despard!
But special for Jack; for, if he whispered
In her ear -- the way they will,
Lovers -- or squeezed her hand a lill
(And all in raison), she looked that scar'd
And that freckened, or else that stiff and that hard,
That Jack was nearly out of his mind.
And Brew would see, and pretend to be plyin'
His spells -- just some of their little tiffs,
Thinks Brew, and drops the paper, and sniffs;
And "Good-night!" he'd say, and "'Deed I've read
Till I'm tired urrov-massy," and off to bed --
"They'll be makin' it up all right," thinks Brew,
"When they're left to theirselves." But wouldn' do.

For Harry would fall asleep, the baste,
And a big slop of a smile all over his face,
And snore like the roots of ragin' thundher;
And Nessy vexed, and 'deed no wondher;
That was used of the ould man's hollabaloo,
But didn' like Harry's. And "I'll go too,"
She'd say; and the loud this Harry roort
It raelly wasn' fit to coort --
You know the ter'ble distressin' it is.
So Jack to get some surt of a kiss,
Very skim-milky, very cowld!
And wakes up Harry, and off, poor sowl!

But the wuss of this wutch was Nessy was fond of her,
For of coorse she was gettin' the upper hand of her
With the wutchin'. But that wasn' all, not a bit!
Fascernatin', is that it?
Aw, you may call it any name,
Comedher, 'tractin', all the same.
You see, she was used of her from a chile.
And, by gough, the woman had a style
That was off the common, knowin' hapes
Of sin, I doubt; and been in scrapes
And scrapes, it's lek. But a surt of a flash with her,
And a cut, and a never-say-die, and a dash with her,
That was seemin' grand to a country gel
Like Nessy, aye. And the stories she'd tell,
Dear me! and the 'sperience she had,
And the riddles and witty things that she said.
And Nessy, ye see, that innocent,
She didn' twig the divilment --
Muck, man, muck, goin' mixed with spice.
But divilment, no matter the nice,
Like some of these flowers you'll feed your eyes on,
Feed your belly? -- look out for pizon.

A bad stick! a bad stick!
But ter'ble bright; and'd give a slick
Of a polish lek to all her stuff,
And knew who she had, and'd hould her luff,
Manoeuverin' accordintly:
The woman was fuss-rate company --
That's the words -- not mine; no! no!
Me? in a woman? High or low,
Young or ould -- I beg to state it --
The lek of yandhar I hate it, I hate it!

Fast she was -- aw, botheration!
She'd been in England in a sitchuation,
Lady's maid, or something o' the surt --
They're pickin' up a dale of dirt
And mischief is them, aw, I'll be bail!
And draggin' it behind their tail,
When they're comin' back to the Isle of Man --
Aw, bless ye! I know them, I know them: bad scran
To the lek, says I. They're callin' it life:
But a gel that's to make an honest wife
For an honest man, for a chap that's worth,
He'd better give them a wide berth.

But of coorse she was seemin' a ter'ble swell
To Nessy, pretendin' to feel with the gel,
Understandin' all that was at her
In her very sowl; and chitter-chatter
About lovers and love. Aw, Nessy thought
It was beautiful! and the way she brought
Everything to the one stress,
Like floodin' her heart with happiness.
And the poethry! aw dear, the nice!
And could sing -- aw, bless ye! a fine deep vice.
And whatever she said, or whatever she sung,
Had it at the tip of her tongue.

Now Nessy was a gel that had got
A good head on her shouldhers, whether or not.
She was puttin' very pretty talk urrov her;
But thinkin' her aunt was nobbier far
Till her; lek much more spicier;
Lek up-to-the-rigs. And, you never can tell,
There's a bit of the divil in every gel --
Aw, there's no mistake they've gorrit,
Yes, they have, and bless them for it!

But that drunken ould brute? Now aisy! aisy!
I know she wasn' azackly a daisy
Of the field, this ould skunk;
But still she wasn' always drunk.
And these flighty people'll have a go with them,
Bless my sowl! a kind of glow with them,
Like fine ould rum or somethin', is it?
Stirs you up, warms your gizzit --
Potes is like that, and fiddlers is,
Play-acthors, singers, circusis --
They'll put a pinch of somethin' tasty
In coortin' and everything -- don't be hasty!
Fond of liquor! I don't deny it --
Special when they haven' to buy it --
Poor sowls!

But how could Nessy be longin'
For the woman that----- There you go ding-dongin'!
Who talked of longin'? But the cruel she traited her
About the ring, you'd think she'd ha' hated her.
Well lerrit be wutchin', if you choose,
And nothin' but wutchin' -- I don't refuse.
But maybe there's curiouser wrinkles
Till wutching even, my pennywinkles!
But drop it! drop it!

Now Jack was a caution!
What d'ye think! he tuk a notion
He'd have the law of her! "Isn' there laws
Agin wutches?" says Jack, "I'll trim her claws;
I'll go and see Kinley aburrit at once."
He might as well have gone to France.
Says Kinley -- "Do you think I'm a d -- d fool?"
Says Jack, "Well, no, sir, not of a rule --
But isn' it law for a wutch to be rowlin'
Down a brew in a barrel, and bumpin' and bowlin'
Over the rocks, and nails that teases
And rags and cuts her all to pieces --
Pintin' innards? Lek they done at Slieu Whallion
Afore now. Well, we've got an ould rapscallion
At Laxdale. . . ." But Kinley got despard impatien' --
"Well then, would it be suffayshin'
To burn her?" says Jack. "Be off, you brute!"
Says Kinley, "you donkey! you thundh'rin' toot!"
"Is that your 'pinion? and what are ye chargin'?"
Says Jack. My gough! you may aisy imargin
Ould Kinley! and turns to the clerks, and he roors --
"Pack this bumpkin out of doors!"
And bundled out like a sack o' potatis --
Says Jack -- "I've gor a 'pinion gratis."

So it was woe Bethsaida! woe Chorazin!
"Jack," says I, "will you go to the Pazon?
You've had a shot at mostly everything posbil,
You've tried the law, let's try the gospel.
Let's go to church to-morrow," I said,
"And hear the Pazon goin' ahead.
And after he's done the sarvice we'll foller him
Into the house, and then we'll collar him."
So the three of us went -- that's Jack and me,
And Harry! yes, Harry, unfortnitly --
I wasn' much used of church, I'll confess,
Not them times -- aw, younger, yes --
In the Quire, and the Pazon theer --
Good Lord! how I loved him! aw dear, aw dear!
But knockin' about, and often at say,
Aw, a lill church'll go a long way.

But still I was useder till Harry, that never
Went to any place whatever --
A reg'lar haythen surt of a chap,
Lek these Dalby fellows is very ap',
Ap' enough -- and hadn' no notion
How to behave, and a surt of a ocean
Of spit at this divil; the whole of the pew
Nearly swimmin' -- aw, it's true! it's true!
And'd mark some speck in the grain, or a knot
In the timber, and fire a splandid shot.
I know he could do it -- of coorse he could --
Bless ye! that was understood.
And I warned him once, and I warned him twice --
I did, I did! and it isn' nice.
No it isn', in church, eh? what?
It's a dirty, savage thing is that.
The Clerk's wife had to clane it out
Agin the next Sunday -- treminjus stout
That woman was -- and then the churchwardens --
Kneale Ballagill, and Stole the Gardens --
Made a presantment -- is that it?
That they couldn' pozzibly do with spit
In the church like yandhar; but just to annoy
The Pazon, because he was takin' joy
Of the leks of me -- I knew them, blow them!
And so did everybody know them.

But however we got him middlin' quite
Sittin' there. I took a delight
To hear the Pazon readin' the sarvice;
Lek, you know, a lill bit narvous --
Aw, beautiful! For praechin'----- well-----
I was likin' him terrible;
But others was sayin' he hadn' the power:
And of coorse he cudn' go on by the hour
Like these Locals and that, nor he cudn' shout
And rag, and fling his arms about
Like a windmill theer, and his body goin' drivin'
Half urrov the pulpit -- and how they're contrivin
To keep their balance God only knows,
And sweatin' and stranglin' in their clothes
Most awful they are; and "Awake! awake!
Ye sinners!" and roors. But delicake --
That was the Pazon -- not raw, but ripe,
And mallow, like berries, like a aisy pipe,
That draws like a baby the smooth it's goin' --
There's some that's bad to rattle and groan
Boosely -- what? just wantin' clanin' --
Aye! But the Pazon that putty strainin'
Like God was takin' him for a flute,
And playin' on him -- tootle-toot?
Not Him! but lovely music, clear
And sweet. You'd think, if you could hear
An angel smilin', it'd be rather
Like that----- what? "I'll go to my father,"
It's sayin' theer, "and sinned," d'ye see!
"Against Heaven," aye! "and before thee,
And no more worthy to be callin'
Thy son." And "Dearly beloved," and fallin'
Down on their knees. And "no health in us,"
And "lost sheep," and wuss and wuss.
And then the Pazon on his own hook,
And the sollum, and the lovely look
On his dear ould face -- and the surt of a tenor,
And "desireth not the death of a sinner" --
Like just a mossel higher -- aye!
Aw, fit to make a body cry --
Fit enough; and safter and safter,
And "that the rest of our life hereafter-----"
My gough! like drops upon a wound,
And all "through Jesus," you'll be bound.

The way he had! the way he had!
Say the words now, James, good lad!
Say them! try! -- you can't? no, no!
Nor you, nor the one of us. We must turn to
And be like the Pazon, that's it, Jem --
Innocent and pure like him.

But O the hard! O night and day!
"O Lamb of God, that takest away
The sins of the world, have mercy upon us!"
(Kneel, men, kneel!) "have mercy upon us!"
"O Christ, hear us!
O Christ, hear us!
Lord, have mercy upon us!
Lord, have mercy upon us!
Christ, have mercy upon us!
Christ, have mercy upon us!
Lord, have mercy upon us
Lord, have mercy upon us!"
(Silence for a time.)
I'll go on. The service was over for sure,
And then we in on the back door,
And axed would the Pazon see us two,
Not Harry of coorse, that cudn' do
With the like o' yandhar, hadn' the wit in --
Bless ye! a good-sized field to spit in
Was Harry's notion, and, rocks or reels,
The Pazon's fields was beautiful fields.

But the Pazon was in his study theer,
Sittin' in the arm-cheer,
And the servant brought the two of us in,
And sniffed, and cut, but lizzenin'
Outside no doubt, aw, lizzened,
Aw, as sure as she was chrizzened --
Bless ye! how could she help it -- eh?
Just natheral, as you may say --
Natheral. So -- "Pazon," I says,
"Here's Jack Pentreath, that'll not take rest
About wutches," I says; and I up and tould
All the jeel; and the Pazon to fould
His bands in a book, and as aisy as aisy,
And no hurry whatever; and Jack half crazy,
And "Go on then, Tom! go on! go on!"
And cudn' wait till I was done;
Like a thunderstorm! aw, fire and hail!
And "Yes, Pazon Gale!" and "No, Pazon Gale!"
And lovin' Nessy, and Nessy him,
And as happy as Jerusalem,
Till this dirt begun her divil's tricks,
And wutchin' the gel, "and puttin' betwix'
Hal Creer and me," he says, "that was allis
The best of friends"; and the gallis, the gallis
Was too good for the lek, and if they got
Their rights, it's lek they'd find it hot --
"Hot," he says, "rather hot, rather hot,"
Says Jack; but however, and whether or not,
They'd get it at last aback of the bars
Of hell, these divil's sassingers,
Fryin', yes! But could nothin' be done
Afore that to stop their carryin' on?
And -- "Look here, Pazon, here's a go!
Think of Nessy -- as pure as the snow,
And as sweet that shuggar cudn' be sweeter,
And this ould scoundhrel, this ould blue Peter
Of a rag of a vagabone to pizon
The loveliest craythur ye ever set eyes on!
Pizon! pizon! sartinly!
Body and sowl -- machree! machree!
Pazon, Pazon! it shudn' be!
It shudn'! it shudn'!" -- "What pizon then?"
Says the Pazon, "what pizon is it that's in,
Jack?" he says. "You surely don't think
She's givin' Nessy stuff to drink,
Harbs or the lek?" -- "No, no!" says Jack;
"My gough! she's on another tack
Altogether. What odds the drinkin'?
Pizonin', pizonin' like winkin';
Sartinly!" not givin', but doin',
That was it -- at the full moon --
Harbs -- and what was to hinder her? d----- it!
(The Pazon looked funny.) Did he think they'd ram it
Down a gel's throat? My gough! what sense?
"Harbs! charms! did ye ever? -- go to France!"
"Now Jack," I says, "you'll spake respactful
To the Pazon," I says. "Harbs! many a sackful
I've seen at her," says Jack; "but dose
And drug the gel! -- But the Pazon knows
Of coorse -- no frankincense nor myrrh
Wasn' that; and ask your pardon, sir --
Brewin', that's it! and these divil's birds,
And the evil eye, and sayin' the words,
And the strength, and the steam, and the black art --
And lawyers -- bless ye! takin' their part --
Lawyers -- much on the same hand.
But the Pazon's the man! the Pazon's the man!
Eh, Tom? Let the Pazon go to work!
That's the boy that'll draw their cork!"
"Respactful," I says, "then, Jack, if ye plaise;
Respactful, respactful!" And the Pazon to raise
His eyes a bit; and -- "Do you believe
In this nonsense?" he says; and lek to reeve
A surt of a laugh through his shouldhers lek.
And -- "Thomas," he says, "aw well I'd expeck
Better of you." -- "What for then, Pazon?"
Says I, "if you'll excuse me as'in'."

But Jack gave no time -- "A Bible!" he says,
"A Bible! a Bible! chapter and vess!
Here you are! do you want to make fun of me?"
And the leaves goin' flyin', and "Deuteronomy,"
And -- A wutch shall be put to death -- very well;
And whips him over to Samuel --
"Wutches!" he says, "all right! all right!
And risin' the ould man in the dead of the night,
Ordered at Saul, ordered at Saul --
Sartinly, and hadn' no call,
Not the laste." -- "The witch of Endor,"
Says the Pazon; and "Yes! and how he'd befriend her,
And no punishment, he says; and look!
Look here!" says Jack, and shoves the book
Under the Pazon's very nose,
"Look here, man! look! and Samuel's ghose
Ascendin' urrov the earth -- see, see!
Like gods." -- "You're makin' very free,
Jack," I says; "respactful now!
Respactful, will ye!" -- "Stop your row!"
Says Jack. "Lek gods, it's sayin' -- what?
Eh, Pazon? But Samuel gev it him hot,
Didn' he, Pazon? Hev ye forgot?
Lizzen, lizzen! vess twenty-two;
And she made him ate his supper too --
To be sure!
Twenty-three, twenty-four --
And she hasted and killed a fat calf --
See, see! and unleavened bread thereof --
There ye are! went away that night --
Fuss of Samuel, twenty-eight.
Now then! now then! No wutches, eh?
No wutches, Pazon? Is that what you say?
In the Bible?" And goodness grayshers!
What was the gud o' Pazons and praechers,
If they were goin' and denyin' the very texes
In the Bible itself? And -- "The laste ye expecks is
Give in to the Bible!" And the Pazon smilin'
Very paceful. "Well, don't be vi'len'!"
Says the Pazon, "but let me 'splain the thing."
Aw, Jack to sulk, and Jack to fling --
And what was these Pazons but all a sham?
And didn' care a twopenny d -- n!

"Be quite!" I says, "be quite now, Jack!
Look here! we'll have no disrespack
To Pazon Gale! No cussin' here!
No cussin' before the Pazon, theer!"
'Deed I spoke savage; for, traycle or botter,
Manners is manners -- that's my motter.
But bless ye! the Pazon didn' take
The smallest notice; he'd hev gev him a shake
Sure enough, if it hedn' ha' been
The ter'ble bothered and 'cited he seen
Poor Jack was -- for ye musn' suppose
The Pazon 'd hide his head under the clothes
When cussin' was goin' -- not him! What! cussin'
Before the Pazon? My gough! ye dussin' --
The chaps wudn' have it! It wasn' him,
But us, by G -- d. It's limb from limb
We'd ha' tore the divil that dar'd to 'sult
Ould Pazon Gale. But Jack was pull't
Very sore in his heart; and the Pazon was kind,
And so, ye see, he didn' mind --
No --
And then he 'splaint and 'splaint,
Aw, uncommon! And -- The Testament,
And the Ould and the New, and close akin,
But still for all the differin' --
And dispensin' and that. And all about ghoses,
And divils, and Samuel, and Moses;
And the power of the evil one, and them dirts
That was possessin' people, unclean spir'ts,
And spir'ts of infirmity -- just so;
And that muck of divils that was suffered to go
Into the pigs, that was feedin' away --
Muck to muck! lek a body might say --
And drowned in the waters. And Christ to send them
About their biznuss, and take and pin them
In the only place they gor a right to,
And sure enough that's hell. And they'll try to
Ger out for a sthrowl, no doubt; but they can't --
And their power is gone; and no matter the haunt
Or the used of a place, or a pesson's body,
They're done complate. Some niddy-noddy
Of a poor craythur you'll be seein' still
On the counthry goin'; but unpozzible
For these divils to touch them, bein' innocent --
Wutches! no! But others rent
With fire and fury, and they're callin',
Insane, and that, and shoutin' and bawlin' --
Aw, as mad as brute bases --
But just a disase like other disases.
But wutches! we've got nothin' to say with --
Wutches! They're tuk and done away with
Altogether; got the sack;
And Christ that done it, and that's a fact!
And Baalim and Ashtaroth,
Heaven's queen and mother both --
Somethin' like that -- but I'll take my oath --
A Roman? the Pazon! God bless your sowl!
Not him; but, if I may make so boul',
Just houl' your jaw! And -- The Libyc Ammon,
The chap with the horns; and ould Mammon,
That must ha' been a surt of a fool,
With his eyes on the floor for the fond of the gool' --
Hapes -- but druv away like chaff
Afore the babe that was born in the laf' --
At laste, the manger -- and no use a' rebellin' --
That's the way the Pazon was tellin'.

The Bible? No; but a blind ould party
By the name o' Milton -- blind, but hearty;
Gor an eye inside of him theer,
Somewhere or another, an eye that clear
It could split the bottom of darkness in two,
And hev a view, aw, he'd hev a view,
Fuss-rate, would Milton; aw, he wudn' fail!
But the Bible----- But the Pazon was thinkin' a dale
Of this Milton, and the grand he wrote --
A pote, ye know, of coorse, a pote.
But still, for all----- a pote, yis, yis!
But somethin' about it in Genesis.

Beautiful the Pazon purrit.
But, bless ye! I might take and worret
My brains till next week, and I cudn' give it
The way the Pazon did -- like a rivet,
The close and the sthrong -- uncommon though!
And still, for all, was there wutches or no --
Aw, my gough! it's hard to be sayin' --
Aye -- but seemin' ter'ble plain
When the Pazon was agate of the arguin' talk;
Nor me, nor even Jack didn' balk
The Pazon, nor never stirred nor winced,
But let him go on; but whether convinced --
It isn' me -- my goodness, no!
But ter'ble quite and pleasant though.

And then the Pazon said he'd spake
To Nessy herself; and he hoped she'd take
Heart, he said; "for, Jack," he says,
"If you're lovin' each other in truthfulness;
If your love is rael, if your love's sincere
(He was fond of the word), then never fear!
There's no power on earth, or anywhere else,
That'll harm ye, no!" And the ould eyes fills --
Aw, they did! aw, they did, and the hands was gript,
And Jack in the slush of tears, and slipt
On his knees -- poor sowl! aw, feelin'! feelin'!
And the Pazon blessed him where he was kneelin' --
Sobbed, did Jack; and "You'll spake to her, yis!
You'll spake, you'll spake!" and sobbed, and ris,
And out on the door, and off with us there,
And the two of us cryin' like fools we were --
"D-----d fools," says Harry, when he met us --
But Harry was Harry, so that didn' fret us --
"D-----d fools, is it? well grantit! grantit!
But lave us, Harry." So Harry slantit.

And the Pazon kep' his word, for he went
The very next day to see Nessy, and spent
The best of an hour with her there, and he tould her
All about wutches; and a mind to scould her
For the fearful she was: but all he done
Was spoke to her, and made the run
Much the same he did with us --
And Nessy cryin' fit to bus' --
And about the power; they cudn' hev it,
These wutches, no! And who was to gev it? --
Most of them wake in their intelleck;
But others wicked; and the faymale seck
In general, the Pazon said --
Aye, wrong in the head, wrong in the head.
But mischievous enough was a wutch --
Sartinly -- and spacial for such
That believed in the lek. But believe them not,
And where's their power? it's gone like a shot.
"It's you that gives them the power," he says,
"By believin' in all this wickedness --
Power? It's you that's 'sponsible for it;
Don't give them the power, and they hevn' gorrit.
Poor thing!" he says, "poor thing! poor thing!
Poor Nessy then!" And the hands to wring
At Nessy -- aye -- "And your aunt," he said;
"Your aunt! aw dear! it's very bad --
Very bad, and very hard" --
But the door of messy wasn' barred
Again the lek. And then he tuk
A little prayer, and Nessy shuk
All over; but got more pacefuller.
And then she said -- "Will you spake to her,
Masthar Gale?" she says. Aw, his lip was goin',
But never a word, and never no knowin'
Azackly what was arrim -- his head
All stooped, you know. But at last he said --
"I will" -- very low, like a surt of a pride,
That humble and that dignified.
And the hat and the stick; and Nessy freckened
To see him like yandhar. Now it's general reckoned
That Pazons is special -- what, special? my gough!
A Pazon can spit, and a Pazon can cough.
What is it botherin' you and me
In our solws? We know we've done wrong, d'ye see!
Give it a word now! chrizzen it, chrizzen it!
In our sowls, in our sowls, man -- Conscience, isn' it?
Conscience -- sartinly. And the same
With Pazons. Pazons feelin' shame?
To be sure! aw, good enough some of them;
But still a conscience! You're thinkin' it's rum of them?
They should be angels altogether?
But bless ye! bless ye! just considher-----
Or----- drop it! Anyway, I'll be bail
There was conscience plenty in Pazon Gale.
And he knew he should ha' spoke to this beauty
Long afore, lek bein' his duty
As clear as clear: but didn', no!
That's the way -- just so! just so!
The delicake -- that's the way he spar'd her:
Bless ye! the delicaker the harder!
Isn' it? reg'lar? the harder to spake
To such dirts, the harder to have or to make
With their doin's, the natheral to keep
Urrov their road, lek the way with a sweep,
And his rope, and his brush, and his bag of shoot.
But wrong, I tell ye, and the Pazon knew 't.

So that's the way his countenance fell
Lek you'll obsarve before this gel --
Remindin' me of Peter though,
And Jesus to look, and the cock to crow;
But cussed did Peter, but went out in the rain,
And wept bitterly, it's sayin'.
Yes, I've seen some of your touch-me-nots
Of Pazons, machine-made Pazons -- lots!
Castin's o' Pazons, that moulded and squared,
Blackleaded and polished, that how are they r'ared
I don't know in my senses, no more till I'd know
How a stove 'd be r'arin' -- toe to toe!
Aw, beautiful! but r'ared they ar'n',
But that prim and that puffeck the divil dar'n'
Come nigh them, it's lek. And they never done wrong,
And they never done right . . . ding-dong, ding-dong!
Ah, my men! when I'll die, when I'll die!
Who'll meet me yandhar up in the sky?
Who'll hould me theer that I can stand?
Who'll take my hand? who'll take my hand
Afore all that glory? Not one of them --
No, no! but him! but him! but him!

The dear ould head . . . he stooped it, did he?
Well, but off to see the widdy --
This Banks -- that very minute, aye!
But never saw her . . . why then, why?
Never saw her, that's it!
Never, never! but wait a bit!

She wasn' at home when the Pazon knocked,
No answer, at laste; and the door was locked
And Job away at the Clague's; and so
Of coorse the Pazon had to go.
But tried again next day; but never
No Mrs. Banks, that dodged him clever,
You'd be thinkin' -- what? aw, well, well, well!
And next day, and next day; and it's hard to tell --
Weeks, it's lek -- the Pazon was off
Every day to yandhar crof';
Weeks and weeks -- and no use;
And poor Job tuk in at Brew's;
And wond'rin' greatly what had become
Of the mother; but still he had a home,
Of coorse; but terrible forsaken
Was Job, and sorrowful, and takin'
Up on the mountains and callin', callin'
"Mother! mother!" And chaps that was trawlin'
Down on the shore would feel a let,
And think they'd got her in the net --
But no! And Brew though, very kind;
And -- "Never mind! never mind!
She'll be in Ramsey." And axin' theer,
And Douglas, you know, and everywheer,
Till at last says Brew, "I'll wager she's gone
To Liverpool"; and "Lave her alone,
And she's all right."
And Jack to coax
This Nessy to marry him; and little jokes --
And a bit cheerfuller; but wudn' consent;
And -- "Oh, I can't! O Jack, I can't!"
And the cruel it was of him to persist,
And shiver, and hide her head in his breast.
And never no forrader, and Harry,
The dooiney-molla? Of coorse, to marry,
And to marry at once -- "What capers! blow it!"
Marry away! how the deuce would she know it?
"Chance it!" says Harry, "chance it!" -- "Take care,"
Says Nessy, "what you're talkin' there!
This strong wutchin' is hard to clane
Urrov things; it gets in the grain,
The very subjec's, lek no bleachin' 'll fly it,
Nor nothin' else won't purify it.
It's all about in the fields and the bushes,
You'd think you could see it among the rushes,
Creepin', crawlin', like a blue mist,
Like the breath of some spir't." And she took and kissed
Poor Jack, that looked lek rather onaisy,
I tell ye. But Harry jumped like crazy --
"You're right," he says, "I'm feelin' it . . . what?
All round me," he says; "it's cowld and it's hot,
And it's stickin' all over, like these webs," he says,
"That's spun in the air! I'll cut urrov this,"
Says Harry -- "I'll cut . . . I will though!" and off,
That Nessy cudn' help but laugh --
Poor sowl!
But when the summer come round,
And the apples in blossom, and all the ground
Speckled with daisies, then Harry tried
To get them to do the coortin' outside,
The way they were used. For the chap had a notion
That the lovely smell, and the draught, and the motion
Of the wind through the trees, and the sweet and the fresh,
And the wholesome lek would unfasten the mesh
Of this divil's net that their hearts was caught in.
But Nessy wudn'; she said -- they oughtn'
Nor no pleasure nor nothin', she said,
Till they'd know at laste was she live or dead --
This Banks. Believin' in wutches still?
Of coorse! of coorse! dear me! they will --
The women -- and me? Yes me, and you,
For the matter of that. So don't give sthoo
Quite so hasty. The Pazon -- you're sayin'?
Fuss-rate! fuss-rate! But you know what I mane --
The Pazon was arguin' capital --
Arguin' -- but that's not all,
Isn' arguin' -- it grips
The head of a fellow; but what is it rips
Your very sowl? What is it gives way
Inside ye, sinks ye, scuttles ye,
Falls urrov ye like a false bottom?
That's the thing! ye fancy ye got him,
Because he don't answer ye! answer your granny!
Isn' it natur' that's in? how can he
Go agin her? Take pitchforks to her,
You'll never put her to the door --
Never! natur'! bred in the blood!
Well, it's not natheral ye cud.

Two years went on, and not a word
About this Mrs. Banks was heard
At the Ballaquine, nor anywhere else,
Not a word: and boys and gels
Was pairin' off, and weddin's goin';
But Jack and Nessy wasn' showin'
No signs at all. But lizzen, my men!
I tould ye about the Dragon's Den,
That was high up on the mountain side;
And the ould shaft, that was op'nin' wide
At the foot of the slock -- and gave up workin'
I don't know the years. Well now then herkin!
The Directors tuk a notion they'd try
This shaft again: and Captain Spry
Agate o' the search; and tuk a gang,
And Jack was one, and I'll be hang
If they didn' take Job to help to carry
Their tools, or the lek o' yandhar. And Harry --
Harry was there. And Job was lettin'
Down with a rope, for the way he'd be gettin'
Some candles lit on the first level,
For to light them, ye know. And a bank of gravel,
And then the shaft went farther down.
So Job was gropin', and got his ground,
And lit a candle. And they heard a cry
Most terrible they did. And Spry
Gave orders at once for Jack to be low'rt
Down to the level, and just to report
What was the matter. And so he done --
And what -- aw, what did he find but the son
And the mother? And Job had fainted dead --
Poor thing! and there he was laid
By the side of the bones and the skull. For ye see
He knew her by the clothes -- machree!
Machree! machree! And in her hand
She was clasping' an 'arb -- I don't understand
Azackly what; but I'm tould it's knowin'
For the used at these wutches, and hardly growin'
Anywhere but round this shaft.
And that's the way, lek follerin' her craft,
She must have gone prowlin' up yandhar place,
And missed her footin' -- and God's grace
Is for all, for all! But the 'arb had struck
A root in the gravel, and her hand was stuck
To the soil; and they had to tear it out --
Just fancy what a place to sprout!
But these dirts . . . but lave it. And Jack, though, Jack --
He sent Job up first: and then a sack
Was low'rt to him; and every pin of her,
And clout, and whatever there was in of her,
It was Jack, I tell ye, that gathered them all,
And made the signal for the men to haul;
And come up last himself, as game,
And divil a word; but his face all aflame
With the joy, you'd think. For he knew what'd happen
Soon enough now. But when the ould cap'n
Said, "Jack, my lad, that's a good job for you --
You'd better go tell it to Nessy Brew" --
Aw, bless ye! that was too much for him -- what?
It floored him just the same he'd been shot,
And he fell like a corp. Then the men stood round,
And never a sound, never a sound!
Till Jack come to in the teems of tears
And sobs. And bless my sowl then! wheer's
The man cud ha' stood it? I know I cudn' --
Joy? -- it was joy: but tuk that sudden
And---- well, well, well -- they formed in a line,
And they carried her to the Ballaquine
In puffeck silence -- the wutch was dead;
They knew what they had, they knew what they had.

Next day the bell was toullin' for her;
And maybe it oughtn'; but sorrer is sorrer
After all; and God is a God
Of mercy -- yes! I broke a sod
Of her grave myself; and the woman was buried --
The lightest coffin ever I carried.
And the Pazon read the sarvice -- yis!
And -- "Our dear sister," what's this it is?
Aye, . . . and the . . . "sure and sartin hope" --
Well, I won't say nothin' -- God gives the scope,
Not man; it's Him that slacks to us,
And rides us aisy -- and well He does.

Anyway we buried the woman,
And the wutchin' with her. So now what's comin'?
Comin'? What? Why Jack of coorse,
And Nessy -- aw, as sure as sure's.
Happy, I tell ye, sartinly!
And me to church with them, it's aisy to see.
And nice she looked, and nice she was --
And summer for winter, and heat for frost;
And the dooiney-molla all in his glory;
And the club bruk up, and the end of the story --
Jack Pentreath -- you'll remember him --
And Nessy Brew -- Just douse that glim!

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