---

C J Dennis - The Stoush O` Day
Work rating: Low

Ar, these is `appy days! An` `ow they`ve flown -
  Flown like the smoke of some inchanted fag;
Since dear Doreen, the sweetest tart I`ve known,
  Passed me the jolt that made me sky the rag.
An` ev`ry golding day floats o`er a chap
Like a glad dream of some celeschil scrap.

Refreshed wiv sleep Day to the mornin` mill
  Comes jauntily to out the nigger, Night.
Trained to the minute, confident in skill,
  `E swaggers in the East, chock-full o` skite;
Then spars a bit, an` plugs Night on the point.
Out go the stars; an` Day `as jumped the joint.

The sun looks up, an` wiv a cautious stare,
  Like some crook keekin` o`er a winder sill
To make dead cert`in everythink is square,
  `E shoves `is boko o`er an Eastem `ill,
Then rises, wiv `is dial all a-grin,
An` sez, " `Ooray! I knoo that we could win!"

Sure of `is title then, the champeen Day
  Begins to put on dawg among `is push,
An`, as he mooches on `is gaudy way,
  Drors tribute from each tree an` flow`r an` bush.
An`, w`ile `e swigs the dew in sylvan bars,
The sun shouts insults at the sneakin` stars.

Then, lo! the push o` Day rise to applaud;
  An` all `is creatures clamour at `is feet
Until `e thinks `imself a little gawd,
  An` swaggers on an` kids `imself a treat.
The w`ile the lurkin` barrackers o` Night
Sneak in retreat an` plan another fight.

On thro` the hours, triumphant, proud an` fit,
  The champeen marches on `is up`ard way,
Till, at the zenith, bli`me! `E—is-IT!
  And all the world bows to the Boshter Day.
The jealous Night speeds ethergrams thro` space
`Otly demandin` terms, an` time, an` place.

A w`ile the champeen scorns to make reply;
  `E`s taken tickets on `is own `igh worth;
Puffed up wiv pride, an` livin` mighty `igh,
  `E don`t admit that Night is on the earth.
But as the hours creep on `e deigns to state
`E`ll fight for all the earth an` `arf the gate.

Late afternoon . . . Day feels `is Gabby arms,
  An` tells `imself `e don`t seem quite the thing.
The `omin` birds shriek clamorous alarms;
  An` Night creeps stealthily to gain the ring.
But see! The champeen backs an` fills, becos
`E doesn`t feel the Boshter Bloke `e was.

Time does a bunk as us-u-al, nor stays
  A single instant, e`en at Day`s be`est.
Alas, the `eavy-weight`s `igh-livin` ways
  `As made `im soft, an` large around the vest.
`E sez `e`s fat inside; `e starts to whine;
`E sez `e wants to dror the colour line.

Relentless nigger Night crawls thro` the ropes,
  Advancin` grimly on the quakin` Day,
Whose noisy push, shorn of their `igh-noon `opes,
  Wait, `ushed an` anxious, fer the comin` fray.
And many lusty barrackers of noon
Desert `im one by one—traitors so soon!

`E`s out er form! `E `asn`t trained enough!
  They mark their sickly champeen on the stage,
An` narked, the sun, `is backer, in a huff,
  Sneaks outer sight, red in the face wiv rage.
W`ile gloomy roosters, they `oo made the morn
Ring wiv `is praises, creep to bed forlorn.

All hint an` groggy grows the beaten Day;
  `E staggers drunkenly about the ring;
An owl loots jeerin`ly across the way,
  An` bats come out to mock the fallin` King.
Now, wiv a jolt, Night spreads `im on the floor,
An` all the west grows ruddy wiv `is gore.

A single, vulgar star leers from the sky
  An` in derision, rudely mutters, "Yah!"
The moon, Night`s conkerbine, comes glidin` by
  An` laughs a `eartless, silvery "Ha-ha!"
Scorned, beaten, Day gives up the `opeless fight,
An` drops `is bundle in the lap o` Night.

So goes each day, like some celeschil mill,
  E`er since I met that shyin` little peach.
`Er bonzer voice! I `ear its music still,
  As when she guv that promise fer the beach.
An`, square an` all, no matter `ow yeh start,
The commin end of most of us is - Tart.
Source
The script ran 0.002 seconds.