Krindlesyke by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
page 13 of 186 (06%)
page 13 of 186 (06%)
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The lass, at one time. Heâs had many fancies:
Light come, light go, itâs always been with Jim. EZRA: And I was gay when I was young--as brisk As a yearling tup with the ewes, till Iâd the pains, Like red-hot iron, clamping back and thighs. My heartâs a younkerâs still; but even love Gives in, at last, to rheumatics and lumbago. Now, Iâm no better than an old bell-wether, A broken-winded, hirpling tattyjack That can do nothing but baa and baa and baa. Iâd just to whistle for a wench at Jimâs age: And Jimâs ... ELIZA: His fatherâs son. EZRA: Heâs never had My spirit. No womanâs ever bested me. For all his bluster, heâs a gaumless nowt, With neither guts nor gall. He just butts blindly-- A woolly-witted ram, bashing his horns, And spattering its silly brains out on a rock: No backbone--any trollop could twiddle him Round her little finger: just the sort a doxy, Or a drop too much, sets dancing, heels in air: Heâs got the gallowsâ brand. But none of your sons Has a head for whisky or wenches; and not one |
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