Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/57

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A widow of forty-five,A tough old otchel wi’ longWitch teeth, an’ ’er black hawk-eyes as I’veMistrusted all along!
An’ me as ’as kep my-senShut like a daisy bud,Clean an’ new an’ nice, so’s whenHe wed he’d ha’e summat good!
An’ ’im as nice an’ freshAs any man i’ the force,To ha’e gone an’ given his white young fleshTo a woman that coarse!
IIIYou’re stout to brave this snow, Miss Stainwright,  Are you makin’ Brinsley way?—I’m off up th’ line to Underwood  Wi’ a dress as is wanted to-day.
Oh are you goin’ to Underwood?  ’Appen then you’ve ’eered?—What’s that as ’appen I’ve ’eered-on, Missis,  Speak up, you nedna be feared.
Why, your young man an’ Widow Naylor,  Her as he lodges wi’,They say he’s got her wi’ childt; but there,  It’s nothing to do wi’ me.
Though if it’s true they’ll turn him out  O’ th’ p’lice force, without fail;

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