Page:Love Poems and Others.djvu/65

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A COLLIER’S WIFE

Somebody’s knocking at the door  Mother, come down and see.—I’s think it’s nobbut a beggar,  Say, I’m busy.
It’s not a beggar, mother,—hark  How hard he knocks . . .—Eh, tha’rt a mard-’arsed kid,  ’E’ll gi’e thee socks!
Shout an’ ax what ’e wants,  I canna come down.—’E says “Is it Arthur Holliday’s?”  Say “Yes,” tha clown.
’E says, “Tell your mother as ’er mester’s  Got hurt i’ th’ pit.”What—oh my sirs, ’e never says that,  That’s niver it.
Come out o’ the way an’ let me see,  Eh, there’s no peace!An’ stop thy scraightin’, childt,  Do shut thy face.
“Your mester’s ’ad an accident,  An’ they’re ta’ein ’im i’ th’ ambulanceTo Nottingham,”—Eh dear o’ me  If ’e’s not a man for mischance!

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