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C J Dennis - The Play
Work rating: Medium

Wot`s in a name? — she sez . . . An` then she sighs, 
An` clasps `er little `ands, an` rolls `er eyes. 
"A rose," she sez, "be any other name 
Would smell the same.
Oh, w`erefore art you Romeo, young sir? 
Chuck yer ole pot, an` change yer moniker!"

Doreen an` me, we bin to see a show — 
The swell two-dollar touch. Bong tong, yeh know. 
A chair apiece wiv velvit on the seat; 
A slap-up treat. 
The drarmer`s writ be Shakespeare, years ago, 
About a barmy goat called Romeo.

"Lady, be yonder moon I swear!" sez `e. 
An` then `e climbs up on the balkiney; 
An` there they smooge a treat, wiv pretty words 
Like two love-birds. 
I nudge Doreen. She whispers, "Ain`t it grand!" 
`Er eyes is shining an` I squeeze `er `and.

`Wot`s in a name?" she sez. `Struth, I dunno. 
Billo is just as good as Romeo. 
She may be Juli-er or Juli-et — 
`E loves `er yet. 
If she`s the tart `e wants, then she`s `is queen, 
Names never count . . . But ar, I like "Doreen!"

A sweeter, dearer sound I never `eard; 
Ther`s music `angs around that little word, 
Doreen! . . . But wot was this I starts to say 
About the play? 
I`m off me beat. But when a bloke`s in love 
`Is thorts turns `er way, like a `omin` dove.

This Romeo `e`s lurkin` wiv a crew — 
A dead tough crowd o` crooks — called Montague. 
`Is cliner`s push — wot`s nicknamed Capulet— 
They `as `em set. 
Fair narks they are, jist like them back-street clicks, 
Ixcep` they fights wiv skewers `stid o` bricks.

Wot`s in a name? Wot`s in a string o` words? 
They scraps in ole Verona wiv the`r swords, 
An` never give a bloke a stray dog`s chance, 
An` that`s Romance. 
But when they deals it out wiv bricks an` boots 
In Little Lon., they`re low, degraded broots.

Wot`s jist plain stoush wiv us, right `ere to-day, 
Is "valler" if yer fur enough away. 
Some time, some writer bloke will do the trick 
Wiv Ginger Mick, 
Of Spadger`s Lane. 
`E`ll be a Romeo, 
When `e`s bin dead five `undred years or so.

Fair Juli-et, she gives `er boy the tip. 
Sez she: "Don`t sling that crowd o` mine no lip; 
An` if you run agin a Capulet, 
Jist do a get." 
`E swears `e`s done wiv lash; `e`ll chuck it clean. 
(Same as I done when I first met Doreen.)

They smooge some more at that. Ar, strike me blue! 
It gimme Joes to sit an` watch them two! `
E`d break away an` start to say good-bye, 
An` then she`d sigh 
"Ow, Ro-me-o!" an` git a strangle-holt, 
An` `ang around `im like she feared `e`d bolt.

Nex` day `e words a gorspil cove about 
A secret weddin`; an` they plan it out.
`E spouts a piece about `ow `e`s bewitched: 
Then they git `itched . . . 
Now, `ere`s the place where I fair git the pip! 
She`s `is for keeps, an` yet `e lets `er slip!

Ar! but `e makes me sick! A fair gazob! 
E`s jist the glarsey on the soulful sob, 
`E`ll sigh and spruik, a` `owl a love-sick vow —
(The silly cow!) 
But when `e`s got `er, spliced an` on the straight 
`E crools the pitch, an` tries to kid it`s Fate.

Aw! Fate me foot! Instid of slopin` soon 
As `e was wed, off on `is `oneymoon, 
`Im an` `is cobber, called Mick Curio, 
They `ave to go 
An` mix it wiv that push o` Capulets. 
They look fer trouble; an` it`s wot they gets.

A tug named Tyball (cousin to the skirt) 
Sprags `em an` makes a start to sling off dirt. 
Nex` minnit there`s a reel ole ding-dong go — 
`Arf round or so. 
Mick Curio, `e gets it in the neck, 
"Ar rats!" `e sez, an` passes in `is check.

Quite natchril, Romeo gits wet as `ell. 
"It`s me or you!" `e `owls, an` wiv a yell, 
Plunks Tyball through the gizzard wiv `is sword, 
`Ow I ongcored! 
"Put in the boot!" I sez. "Put in the boot!" 
"`Ush!" sez Doreen . . . "Shame!" sez some silly coot.

Then Romeo, `e dunno wot to do. 
The cops gits busy, like they allwiz do, 
An` nose around until `e gits blue funk 
An` does a bunk. 
They wants `is tart to wed some other guy. 
"Ah, strike!" she sez. "I wish that I could die!"

Now, this `ere gorspil bloke`s a fair shrewd `ead. 
Sez `e "I`ll dope yeh, so they`ll think yer dead." 
(I tips `e was a cunnin` sort, wot knoo 
A thing or two.) 
She takes `is knock-out drops, up in `er room: 
They think she`s snuffed, an` plant `er in `er tomb.

Then things gits mixed a treat an` starts to whirl. 
`Ere`s Romeo comes back an` finds `is girl 
Tucked in `er little coffing, cold an` stiff, 
An` in a jiff, 
`E swallows lysol, throws a fancy fit, 
`Ead over turkey, an` `is soul `as flit.

Then Juli-et wakes up an` sees `im there, 
Turns on the water-works an` tears `er `air, 
"Dear love," she sez, "I cannot live alone!" 
An` wiv a moan, 
She grabs `is pockit knife, an` ends `er cares . . . 
"Peanuts or lollies!" sez a boy upstairs.
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