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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357924" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Kid</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My son! . . . Them words, jist like a blessed song,<br>Is singin' in me 'eart the 'ole day long;<br>Over an' over; while I'm scared I'll wake<br>Out of a dream, to find it all a fake.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My son! Two little words, that, yesterdee,<br>Wus jist two simple, senseless words to me;<br>An'now—no man, not since the world begun,<br>Made any better pray'r than that…. My son!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My son an' bloomin' 'eir . . . Ours! . . . 'Ers an' mine!<br>The finest kid in—Aw, the sun don't shine<br>Ther' ain't no joy fer me beneath the blue<br>Unless I'm gazin' lovin' at them two.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A little while ago it was jist 'me'<br>A lonely, longin' streak o' misery.<br>An' then 'twas ''er an' me'—Doreen, my wife!<br>An' now it's ''im an' us' an'—sich is life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But 'struth! 'E is king-pin! The 'ead serang!<br>I mustn't tramp about, or talk no slang;<br>I mustn't pinch 'is nose, or make a face,<br>I mustn't—Strike! 'E seems to own the place!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cunning? Yeh'd think, to look into 'is eyes,<br>'E knoo the game clean thro'; 'e seems that wise.<br>Wiv 'er 'an nurse 'e is the leadin' man,<br>An' poor ole dad's amongst the 'also ran.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Goog, goo,' 'e sez, and curls 'is cunnin' toes.<br>Yeh'd be su'prised the 'eaps o' things 'e knows.<br>I'll swear 'e tumbles I'm 'is father, too;<br>The way 'e squints at me, an' sez 'Goog, goo.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why! 'smornin' 'ere 'is lordship gits a grip<br>Fair on me finger—give it quite a nip!<br>An' when I tugs, 'e won't let go 'is hold!<br>'Angs on like that! An' 'im not three weeks old!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Goog, goo,' 'e sez. I'll swear yeh never did<br>In all yer natcheril, see sich a kid.<br>The cunnin' ways 'e's got; the knowin' stare<br>Ther' ain't a youngster like 'im anywhere!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An', when 'e gits a little pain inside,<br>'Is dead straight griffin ain't to be denied.<br>I'm sent to talk sweet nuffin's to the fowls;<br>While nurse turns 'and-springs ev'ry time 'e 'owls.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But say, I tell yeh straight . . . I been thro'ell!<br>The things I thort I wouldn't dare to tell<br>Lest, in the tellin' I might feel again<br>One little part of all that fear an' pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">It come so sudden that I lorst me block.<br>First, it was, 'Ell-fer-leather to the doc.,<br>'Oo took it all so calm 'e made me curse<br>An' then I sprints like mad to get the nurse.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By gum; that woman! But she beat me flat!<br>A man's jist putty in a game like that.<br>She owned me 'appy 'ome almost before<br> She fairly got 'er nose inside me door.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweatin' I was! but cold wiv fear inside<br>An' then, to think a man could be denied<br>'Is wife an' 'ome an' told to fade away<br>By jist one fat ole nurse 'oo's in 'is pay!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I wus too weak wiv funk to start an' rouse.<br>'Struth! Ain't a man the boss in 'is own 'ouse?<br>'You go an' chase yerself!' she tips me straight.<br>There's nothin' now fer you to do but—wait.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wait? . . . Gawd! . . . I never knoo wot waitin' meant.<br>In all me life till that day I was sent<br>To loaf around, while there inside—Aw, strike!<br>I couldn't tell yeh wot that hour was like!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Three times I comes to listen at the door;<br>Three times I drags meself away once more;<br>Arf dead wiv fear; 'arf dead wiv tremblin' joy . . .<br>An' then she beckons me, an' sez—'A boy!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'A boy!' she sez. 'An' bofe is doin' well!'<br>I drops into a chair, an' jist sez—''Ell!'<br>It was a pray'r. I feels bofe crook an' glad….<br>An' that's the strength of bein' made a dad.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I thinks of church, when in that room I goes,<br>'Oldin' me breaf an' walkin' on me toes.<br>Fer 'arf a mo' I feared me nerve 'ud fail<br>To see 'er Iying there so still an' pale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She looks so frail, at first, I dursn't stir.<br>An' then, I leans acrost an' kisses 'er;<br>An' all the room gits sorter blurred an' dim . . .<br>She smiles, an' moves 'er 'ead. 'Dear lad! Kiss 'im.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Near smothered in a ton of snowy clothes,<br>First thing, I sees a bunch o' stubby toes,<br>Bald 'ead, termater face, an' two big eyes.<br>'Look, Kid,' she smiles at me. 'Ain't 'e a size?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'E didn't seem no sorter size to me;<br>But yet, I speak no lie when I agree;<br>''E is,' I sez, an' smiles back at Doreen,<br>'The biggest nipper fer 'is age I've seen.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She turns away; 'er eyes is brimmin' wet.<br>'Our little son!' she sez. 'Our precious pet!'<br>An' then, I seen a great big dropp roll down<br>An' fall—kersplosh!—fair on 'is nibs's crown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An' still she smiles. 'A lucky sign,' she said.<br>'Somewhere, in some ole book, one time I read,<br>'The child will sure be blest all thro' the years<br>Who's christened wiv 'is mother's 'appy tears.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Kiss 'im,' she sez. I was afraid to take<br>Too big a mouthful of 'im, fear 'e'd break.<br>An' when 'e gits a fair look at me phiz<br>'E puckers up 'is nose, an' then—Geewhizz!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ow did 'e 'owl! In 'arf a second more<br>Nurse 'ad me 'ustled clean outside the door.<br>Scarce knowin' 'ow, I gits out in the yard,<br>An' leans agen the fence an' thinks reel 'ard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A long, long time I looks at my two lands.<br>'They're all I got,' I thinks, 'they're all that stands<br>Twixt this 'ard world an' them I calls me own.<br>An' fer their sakes I'll work 'em to the bone.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Them vows an' things sounds like a lot o' guff.<br>Maybe, it's foolish thinkin' all this stuff<br>Maybe, it's childish-like to scheme an' plan;<br>But—I dunno—it's that way wiv a man.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I only know that kid belongs to me!<br>We ain't decided yet wot 'e's to be.<br>Doreen, she sez 'e's got a poit's eyes;<br>But I ain't got much use fer them soft guys.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think we ort to make 'im something great<br>A bookie, or a champeen 'eavy-weight:<br>Some callin' that'll give 'im room to spread.<br>A fool could see 'e's got a clever 'ead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I know 'e's good an' honest; for 'is eyes<br>Is jist like 'ers; so big an' lovin'-wise;<br>They carries peace an' trust where e'er they goes<br>An', say, the nurse she sez 'e's got my nose!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dead ring fer me ole conk, she sez it is.<br>More like a blob of putty on 'is phiz,<br>I think. But 'e's a fair 'ard case, all right.<br>I'll swear I thort 'e wunk at me last night!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My wife an' fam'ly! Don't it sound all right!<br>That's wot I whispers to meself at night.<br>Some day, I s'pose, I'll learn to say it loud<br>An' careless; kiddin' that I don't feel proud.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My son! . . . If there's a Gawd 'Oos leanin' near<br>To watch our dilly little lives down 'ere,<br>'E smiles, I guess, if 'E's a lovin' one<br>Smiles, friendly-like, to 'ear them words—My son.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=357924" data-title="The Kid de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="My son! . . . Them words, jist like a blessed song, Is singin' in me 'eart the 'ole day long; Over an' over; while I'm scared I'll wake Out of a dream, to find it all a fake. My son! Two little words, that, yesterdee, Wus jist two simple, sensele..."></div> </div> </div>
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