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C J Dennis - Doreen
Work rating: Low

"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 divine
The way she raised `er shinin` eyes to mine.

`Er eyes!  Soft in the moon; such BOSHTER 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 been
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 town
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 skirt
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 life
An` get some decent tart, ere it`s too late,
      To be `is wife.
But, Gawd!  `Oo would `a` thort it could `a` been
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 take
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 felt
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 inside
To be a little `ero on `is own;
      An` see the pride
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!
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