Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/537

 INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918 519

It aren't no false alarm,

The finish to your fun; You you 'ave brung the 'arm,

An' I'm the ruined one;

An' now you'll off an' run With some new fool in tow.

Your 'eart? You 'aven't none. . . . Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

When a man is tired there is naught will bind 'im; All 'e solemn promised 'e will shove be'ind 'im. What's the good o pray in for The Wrath to strike J im (Mary, pity women!}, when the rest are like 'im ?

What 'ope for me or it?

What's left for us to do? I've walked with men a bit,

But this but this is you.

So 'elp me Christ, it's true! Where can I 'ide or go ?

You coward through and through! . . Ah, Gawd, I love you so!

All the more you give 'em the less are they for givin Love lies dead, an' you can not kiss 'im livin'. Down the road 'e led you there is no returnin' (Mary, pity women /), but you're late in learnin' !

You'd like to treat me fair?

You can't, because we're pore? We'd starve ? What do I care !

We might, but this is shore!

I want the name no more The name, an' lines to show,

An' not to be an 'ore. . . . Ah, Gawd, I love you so!