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Who were they to cock their nose?
And Lee's ould wife with her strings and her bows,
And her streamers and trimmins, and pippin and poppin
Her d -dould head like a hen with a toppin !"
Did she cuss ? aye, she cussed, and it's a rael bad hearin,
Mind ye! a woman cussin or swearin-
Partikler your mawther-still for all it's true,
There's differin sorts of cussin too.
For there's cussin that comes down like fire from heaven
Fierce and strong-like the blast that's driven
From the mouth of a seven-times heated furnace;
That's you see, when a man's in earnes'.
And there's cussin that's no use whataver,
Slibberin slobberin slushin slaver-
A fool's lips runnin with brimstone froth,
The muckin skum of the Divil's own broth.

“ And had they forgot when they lived next door? A lazy lot, and as poor as poorAnd— Misses Baynes ! the beautiful tay You've got ! and—I raely think I'll stayAnd—could you lend me a shillin till tomorrow ? And borrow, borrow, borrow, borrow. Aye, and starvin, and him doin nothin for hours But pokin about with his harbs and his flowersThe lig-y-ma-treih! the dirty ould bough! And now it was Misther Lee! my gough! Misther and Misthress Lee in the gigMake way, good people !-aw, terrible big ! And would I demean myself to them? You silly-billy! for shame! for shame !" And at it again—" And what she would ratherAnd me the very spit of my father"! And what was a bychild, if you come to that? It wasn a dog, and it wasn a cat; But a man's own flesh, and the love and the life Was in it — let be she wasn your wifeAnd after all why shouldn she be? She was a strappin wench was Jinny Magee, And good at the work, and worth a hundred Of your Betsy things—and why should we be sundered ? And Jinny and her would agree, never fear her!” Aw, she was despard though to hear her.

“Hush ! mawther!" I says, “ aw, mawther, hush!”
And she turned to the fire, and I saw her brush
The tears from her eyes, and I saw the workin
Of her back, and her body jerkin, jerkin :
And I went, and I never said nothin lek,
But I put my arm around her neck,
And I looked in her face, and the shape and the strent',
And the very face itself had went

All into one, like a sudden thaw,
Slished and slushed, or the way you've saw
The water bubblin and swirlin around
The place where a strong man have gone down.

And I took her and put her upon the bed
Like a little child, and her poor ould head
On my breast, and I hushed her, and stroked her cheek,
Talkin little talk—the way they speak
To babies—I did ! and d-- the shame!
Wasu it out of her I came?
And I began to think of Absalun,
And David cryin “My son, my son!”
And the moon come round, and the light shone in,
And crep’ on her face, and I saw the thin
She was, and the wore, and her neck all dried
And shrivelled up like strips of hide :
And I thought of the time it was as warm
And as soft as Betsy's, and her husband's arm
Around it strong and lovin, and me
A cuddled up, and a suckin free.
And I cried like Peter in the Testament,
When Jesus looked at him, and out he went,
And cried like a fool, and the cock a crowin,
But what there was in his heart there's no knowin.
And I swore by the livin God above
I'd pay her back, and love for love,
And keep for keep, and the wages checked,
And her with a note, and all correct.
Then I kissed her and she never stirred;
And I took my clothes, and, without a word,
I snicked the door, and by break o' the day
I was standing alone on Douglas quay.

I shipped foreign of coorse, and a fine ship too,
China bound, the Waterloo-
Captain Davis—the time I joined her-
“ Carry-on Davis ?” aye, I thought you'd mind her.
A tight little ship, and a tight little skipper-
Hadn we a race with the Liverpool clipper,
The Marco Polo, that very trip?
And it's my opinion that if that ship-
But never mind ! she done her duty,
And the Marco Polo was a beauty-
But still-close-hauled, d'ye see? Well! well!
There's odds of ships, and who can tell ?
That was my ship anyway,
And I was aboard her two years to a day,
And back though for all, and her a dischargin,
And the hands paid off, so you'll aisy imargine
The keen I was for home, and the tracks
I made right away, and no one to ax,
Nor nothing-—" And surely hadn I heard
From nobody?” Bless ye! divil a word !

It was dark when I come upon the street, And my heart hung heavy on my feet, And-all turned in, but in the ould spot A light was burnin still, and the hot I felt, and the chokin, and over the midden, And up to the pane—and her face half hidden, And her sure enough, and the ould arm-cheer, And as straight as a reed, and terrible speer! And the needles twinklin cheerily, And a brave big book spread out on her knee, The Bible--thinks I --and I was raely plased, For it's a great thing to get ould people aised In their minds with the lek o' yandhar, and tracks, And hymns-it studdies them though, and slacks Their sowls, and softens their tempers, and stops Their coughin as good as any drops. And if they don't understand what they're readin The poor ould things—it's a sort of feedinChewin or suction-what's the odds ? One way's man's, and the other God's !

But how about Betsy ?” well, wait a bit ! How about her? aye that was itAnd what a man knows, you see he knows, So I lifts the latch, and in I goes. “Mawther!” I says—my God! the spring She gev, and says she—“ It's a scandalous thing," She says, “comin back in their very closes ! And it's bad enough, but I'll have no ghoses ! Be aff!” says she, “be aff! be aff!” Well, I raely couldn help but laugh. “ I'm Thomas Baynes, your son ! " I said ; “ I'm not a ghost.” “And aren't you dead ? ”. “No!” I says, and I tuk and gev her a kiss : “Is that like a ghost ?” “Well, I can't say it is.” “ And—Betsy, mawther?Aw, Christ, the look ! “ Betsy, mawther ?”—the woman shook ; And she spread her arms, and I staggered to her, And I fell upon my knees on the floor ; And she wrapped my head in her brat—d'ye hear? For to see a man cryin is middlin queer : And then, my mates, then—then I knew What a man that's backed by the Divil can do.) For hadn this Taylor come one day, And tould them I was drowned at sea ? And ould Anthony Lee, that might have knew bette Never axed to see the letter Nor nothin, but talked about “ Providence ; " And the men at the shore they hadn the sense And the Pazon as simple as a child, And that's the way the villian beguiled The lot of them, for they didn know What to do or where to go,

As if there wasn no owners nor agent,
Nor Lloyd's, where they might have heard immadient.

And Betsy, be sure, heard all before long, They took care of that, and then ding-dong, Night and day the ould people was at herAnd would she marry Taylor ? and chitter-chatter ! And never a word from Betsy Lee But “It cannot be! it cannot be !” And thinner and thinner every day, And paler and paler, I've heard them say; And always doin the work and goin, And early and late, and them never knowin, For all they thought theirselves so wise, That the gel was dyin under their eyes. And—“Take advice, and marry him now ! A rael good husband anyhow." And allis the one against the threeAnd “It cannot be! it cannot be !"

One night he was there, and words ran high-
Ould Peggy was tellin—and “Let me die ! ”
She says—“let me die ! let me die !” she said,
And they tuk her upstairs, and put her to bed,
And the Doctor come-I knew him well,
And he knew me-ould Doctor Bell-
A nice ould man, but hard on the drink,
And the fond of Betsy you wouldn think !
He used to say, but he'd never say more,
Her face was like one he'd seen afore.
Aw, that's the man that had supped his fill
Of troubles, mind! but cheerful still.
And a big strong man ; and he'd often say,
“ Well, lad, and when's the day?"
And “ would I be axin him up to the feed ? "
The day indeed! the day indeed!
So he went up all alone to see her,
For Betsy wouldn have nobody there,
Excep himself: and them that was standin
And houldin their breaths upon the landin
Could hear her talkin very quick,
And the Doctor's vice uncommon thick-
But what was said betwix them two
That time, there was none of them ever knew :
God knows, and him; but the nither will tell;
Aw, he was safe to trust was Doctor Bell.
But when he come down—" Is she raely dyin ?”
Ould Anthony, said ; but the Doctor was cryin.
And—“Doctor! Doctor! what can it be?”
“It's only a broken heart," says he ;
And-he'd come again another day-
And he tuk his glass and went away.

And when the winter time come round, And the snow lyin deep upon the ground, One mornin early the mother got up To see how was she, and give her a sup Of tea or the like-and-mates-hould on Betsy was gone! aye, Betsy was gone ! “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild ! Look upon a little child ! Pity my simplicity ! Suffer me to come to thee !" That's the words I've heard her sing When she was just a little prattlin thingAnd I raely don't think in my heart that ever She was different from that—no, never ! Aw, He'd pity her simplicity! A child to God ! a woman to me! “ Gentle Jesus !” the sound is sweet, Like you'll hear the little lammies bleat! Gentle Jesus ! well, well, well ! And once I thought-but who can tell! Come! give us a drop of drink! the stuff A man will put out when he's dry! that's enough! To hear me talkin religion- eh? You must have thought it strange ?—You didn-ye say ? You didn !—10 !- - n it! you didn-you! Well, that'll do, my lads; that'll do, that'll do.

Well, of coorse the buryin-terrible grand,
And all in the papers you'll understand-
“ Elizabeth, daughter of Anthony Lee
And Mary his wife—and twenty-three."
But bless me! you've seen the lek afore-
And the Doctor waitin at the door,
And wantin somethin--and “Could I see her ?
And “ Yes ! aw yes !” and up the steer-
And he looked, and he looked—I've heard them say-
Like a man that's lookin far away ;
And he kissed her cheek, and he shut the lid,
That's what they tould me the Doctor did.

But, however, you musn suppose, my men,
That all this was tould me there and then-
Aw, I thought I'd somethin to tell ye, mind !
That wasn much in the spoony line-
No! no! the words ould mawther said
Was—“Betsy is dead, Tom, Betsy is dead !
And it's Taylor has kilt her anyway,
For didn he tell you were lost at sea ?”
Nothin more-and up I sprung
To my feet, like a craythur that had been stung,
And I couldn see nothin but fire and blood,
And I reeled like a bullock that's got the thud
Of the slaughterer's hammer betwix his hurns,
And claps of light and dark by turns,

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