Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/56

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WHETHER OR NOT

IDunna thee tell me its his’n, mother,   Dunna thee, dunna thee.—Oh ay! he’ll be comin’ to tell thee his-sèn   Wench, wunna he?
Tha doesna mean to say to me, mother,   He’s gone wi that——My gel, owt’ll do for a man i’ the dark,   Tha’s got it flat.
But ’er’s old, mother, ’er’s twenty year   Older nor him——Ay, an’ yaller as a crowflower, an’ yet i’ the dark   Er’d do for Tim.
Tha niver believes it, mother, does ter?   It’s somebody’s lies.—Ax him thy-sèn wench—a widder’s lodger;   It’s no surprise.
IIA widow of forty-fiveWith a bitter, swarthy skin,To ha’ ’ticed a lad o’ twenty-fiveAn’ ’im to have been took in!
A widow of forty-fiveAs has sludged like a horse all her life,Till ’er’s tough as whit-leather, to sliveAtween a lad an’ ’is wife!

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