---

C J Dennis - The Intro
Work rating: Medium

`Er name`s Doreen…Well spare me bloomin` days!
You could er knocked me down wiv `arf a brick!
  Yes, me, that kids meself I know their ways,
  An` `as a name for smoogin` in our click!
I just lines up an` tips the saucy wink.
But strike! The way she piled on dawg! Yer`d think
  A bloke was givin` back-chat to the Queen….
   `Er name`s Doreen.

I seen `er in the markit first uv all,
Inspectin` brums at Steeny Isaacs` stall.
  I backs me barrer in—the same ole way—
  An` sez, "Wot O!  It`s been a bonzer day.
`Ow is it fer a walk?"…Oh, `oly wars!
The sorter look she gimme!  Jest becors
  I tried to chat `er, like you`d make a start
   Wiv ANY tart.

An` I kin take me oaf I wus perlite.
An` never said no word that wasn`t right,
  An` never tried to maul `er, or to do
  A thing yeh might call crook.  Ter tell yeh true,
I didn`t seem to `ave the nerve—wiv `er.
I felt as if I couldn`t go that fur,
  An` start to sling off chiack like I used…
   Not INTRAJUICED!

Nex` time I sighted `er in Little Bourke,
Where she was in a job. I found`er lurk
  Wus pastin` labels in a pickle joint,
  A game that—any`ow, that ain`t the point.
Once more I tried ter chat `er in the street,
But, bli`me!  Did she turn me down a treat!
  The way she tossed `er `cad an` swished `er skirt!
   Oh, it wus dirt!

A squarer tom, I swear, I never seen,
In all me natchril, than this `ere Doreen.
  It wer`n`t no guyver neither; fer I knoo
  That any other bloke `ad Buckley`s `oo
Tried fer to pick `er up. Yes, she was square.
She jist sailed by an` lef` me standin` there
  Like any mug. Thinks I, "I`m out er luck,"
   An` done a duck

Well, I dunno.  It`s that way wiv a bloke.
If she`d ha` breasted up ter me an` spoke,
  I`d thort `er jist a commin bit er fluff,
  An` then fergot about `er, like enough.
It`s jest like this.  The tarts that`s `ard ter get
Makes you all `ot to chase `em, an` to let
  The cove called Cupid get an `ammer-lock;
   An` lose yer block.

I know a bloke `oo knows a bloke `oo toils
In that same pickle found-ery. (`E boils
  The cabbitch storks or somethink.)  Anyway,
  I gives me pal the orfis fer to say
`E `as a sister in the trade `oo`s been
Out uv a jorb, an` wants ter meet Doreen;
  Then we kin get an intro, if we`ve luck.
   `E sez, "Ribuck."

O` course we worked the oricle; you bet!
But, `struth, I ain`t recovered frum it yet!
  `Twas on a Saturdee, in Colluns Street,
  An`—quite by accident, o` course—we meet.
Me pal `e trots `er up an` does the toff
`E allus wus a bloke fer showin` off.
  "This `ere`s Doreen," `e sez. "This `ere`s the Kid."
   I dips me lid.

"This `ere`s Doreen," `e sez.  I sez "Good day."
An`, bli`me, I `ad nothin` more ter say!
  I couldn`t speak a word, or meet `er eye.
  Clean done me block!  I never been so shy.
Not since I was a tiny little cub,
An` run the rabbit to the corner pub—
  Wot time the Summer days wus dry an` `ot—
   Fer me ole pot.

Me! that `as barracked tarts, an` torked an` larft,
An` chucked orf at `em like a phonergraft!
  Gorstrooth! I seemed to lose me pow`r o` speech.
  But, `er!  Oh, strike me pink!  She is a peach!
The sweetest in the barrer!  Spare me days,
I carn`t describe that cliner`s winnin` ways.
  The way she torks!  `Er lips!  `Er eyes!  `Er hair!…
   Oh, gimme air!

I dunno `ow I done it in the end.
I reckerlect I arst ter be `er friend;
  An` tried ter play at `andies in the park,
  A thing she wouldn`t sight. Aw, it`s a nark!
I gotter swear when I think wot a mug
I must `a` seemed to `er. But still I `ug
  That promise that she give me fer the beach.
   The bonzer peach!

Now, as the poit sez, the days drag by
On ledding feet.  I wish`t they`d do a guy.
  I dunno`ow I `ad the nerve ter speak,
  An` make that meet wiv `er fer Sundee week!
But strike!  It`s funny wot a bloke`ll do
When `e`s all out…She`s gorn, when I come-to.
  I`m yappin` to me cobber uv me mash….
   I`ve done me dash!

`Er name`s Doreen….An` me-that thort I knoo
  The ways uv tarts, an` all that smoogin` game!
An` so I ort; fer ain`t I known a few?
  Yet some`ow…I dunno.  It ain`t the same.
I carn`t tell WOT it is; but, all I know,
I`ve dropped me bundle—an` I`m glad it`s so.
  Fer when I come ter think uv wot I been….
   `Er name`s Doreen.
Source
The script ran 0.002 seconds.