Page:The moods of Ginger Mick.djvu/130

 122 An' when I'm feelin' blue, an' mopin' 'ere About the pal I've lorst; Doreen, my wife, She come an' takes my 'and, an' tells me, "Dear, There'd be more cause to mourn a wasted life. 'E proved 'imself a man; an' 'e's at rest." An' so, I tries to think sich things is best.

A gallant gentleman... Well, let it go. They sez they've put them words above 'is 'ead, Out there where lonely graves stretch in a row; But Mick 'e'll never mind it now 'e's dead. An' where 'e's gone, when they weigh praise an' blame, P'raps gentlemen an' men is much the same.

They fights; an' orl the land is filled wiv cheers. They dies; an' 'ere an' there a 'eart is broke. An' when I weighs it orl—the shouts, the tears— I sees it's well Mick wus a lonely bloke. 'E found a game 'e knoo, an' played it well; An' now 'e's gone. Wot more is there to tell?

A month ago, fer me the world grew grey; A month ago the light went out fer Rose; Becos one common soljer crossed the way, Leavin' a common message as 'e goes. But ev'ry dyin' soljer's 'ope lies there: "Look after Rose. Mafeesh!" Gawd! It's a pray'r!