"I wish't yeh menat it,
Bill." Oh, 'ow me 'eart Went out to 'er that evnin' on the beach.
I knew she weren't no ordinary tart, My little peach!
To 'ear 'er voice! Its gentle sorter tone, Like soft dream-music of some Dago band.
An' me all out; an' 'oldin' in me own 'Er little 'and.
An' 'ow she blushed! O, strike! it was
The way she raised 'er shinin' eyes to mine.'Er eyes! Soft in the moon; such
ER eyes!
An' when they sight a bloke…O, spare me days!'E goes all loose inside; such glamour lies In 'er sweet gaze.
It makes 'im all ashamed uv wot 'e's
To look inter the eyes of my Doreen.
The wet sands glistened, an' the gleamin' moon Shone yeller on the sea, all streakin' down.
A band was playin' some soft, dreamy choon; An' up the
We 'eard the distant tram-cars whir an' clash.
An' there I told Per 'ow I'd done me dash."I wish't yeh meant it." 'Struth! And did I, fair? A bloke 'ud be a dawg to kid a
Like her. An' me well knowin' she was square. It 'ud be dirt!'E'd be no man to point wiv her, an' kid.
I meant it honest; an' she knoo I did.
She knoo. I've done me block in on her, straight. A cove 'as got to think some time in
An' get some decent tart, ere it's too late, To be 'is wife.
But,
Gawd! 'Oo would 'a' thort it could 'a'
My luck to strike the likes of Per?…Doreen!
Aw,
I can stand their chuckin' off,
I can. It's 'ard; an' I'd delight to take 'em on.
The dawgs! But it gets that way wiv a man When 'e's fair gone.
She'll sight no stoush; an' so I have to
Their mag, an' do a duck fer her sweet sake.
Fer 'er sweet sake I've gone and chucked it clean: The pubs an' schools an' all that leery game.
Fer when a bloke 'as come to know Doreen, It ain't the same.
There's 'igher things, she sez, for blokes to do.
An' I am 'arf believin' that it's true.
Yes, 'igher things—that wus the way she spoke; An' when she looked at me I sorter
That bosker feelin' that comes o'er a bloke, An' makes 'im melt;
Makes 'im all 'ot to maul 'er, an' to shove'Is arms about'er…Bli'me? but it's love!
That's wot it is. An' when a man 'as grown Like that 'e gets a sorter yearn
To be a little 'ero on 'is own; An' see the
Glow in the eyes of 'er 'e calls 'is queen;
An' 'ear 'er say 'e is a shine champeen."I wish't yeh meant it," I can 'ear 'er yet, My bit o' fluff! The moon was shinin' bright,
Turnin' the waves all yeller where it set— A bonzer night!
The sparklin' sea all sorter gold an' green;
An' on the pier the band—O, 'Ell!… Doreen!
