Page:The moods of Ginger Mick.djvu/32

24 "'Enpecked!" 'e sez. An' then, "Ar, I dunno. I wouldn't mind if I wus in yer place. I've 'arf a mind to give cold tea a go.  It's no game, pourin' snake-juice in yer face. But, lad, I 'ave to, wiv the thirst I got. I'm goin' over now to stop a pot."

'E goes acrost to find a pint a 'ome; An' meets a pal an' keeps another down. Ten minutes later, when 'e starts to roam Back to the markit, wiv an ugly frown, 'E sprags a soljer bloke 'oo's passin' by. An' sez 'e'd like to dot 'im in the eye.

"Your sort," sez Mick, "don't know yer silly mind! They lead yeh like a sheep; it's time yeh woke— The 'eads is makin' piles out uv your kind!" "Aw, git yer 'ead read!" sez the soljer bloke. 'Struth! 'e wus willin' wus that Kharki chap; I 'ad me work cut out to stop a scrap.

An' as the soljer fades acrost the street, Mick strikes a light an' sits down on 'is truck, An' chews 'is fag—a sign 'is nerve is beat— An' swears a bit, an' sez 'e's done 'is luck. 'E grouches there ten minutes, maybe more. Then sez quite sudden, "Blarst the flamin' war!"