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C J Dennis - Uncle Jim
Work rating: Low

"I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez `e,
  "Give me a man wiv grit," sez Uncle Jim.
`E bores `is cute ole eyes right into me,
  While I stares `ard an` gives it back to `im.
Then orl at once `e grips me `and in `is:
"Some`ow," `e sez, "I likes yer ugly phiz."

"You got a look," `e sez, "like you could stay;
  Altho` yeh mauls King`s English when yeh yaps,
An` `angs flash frills on ev`rythink yeh say.
  I ain`t no grammarist meself, per`aps,
But langwidge is a `elp, I owns," sez Unk,
"When things is goin` crook." An` `ere `e wunk.

"Yeh`ll find it tough," `e sez, "to knuckle down.
  Good farmin` is a gift—like spoutin` slang.
Yeh`ll `ave to cut the luxuries o` town,
  An` chuck the manners of this back-street gang;
Fer country life ain`t cigarettes and beer."
"I`m game," I sez. Sez Uncle, "Put it `ere!"

Like that I took the plunge, an` slung the game.
  I`ve parted wiv them joys I `eld most dear;
I`ve sent the leery bloke that bore me name
  Clean to the pack wivout one pearly tear;
An` frum the ashes of a ne`er-do-well
A bloomin` farmer`s blossomin` like `ell.

Farmer! That`s me! Wiv this `ere strong right `and
  I`ve gripped the plough; and blistered jist a treat.
Doreen an` me `as gone upon the land.
  Yours truly fer the burden an` the `eat!
Yours truly fer upendin` chunks o` soil!
The `ealthy, `ardy, `appy son o` toil!

I owns I`ve `ankered fer me former joys;
  I`ve `ad me hours o` broodin` on me woes;
I`ve missed the comp`ny, an` I`ve missed the noise,
  The football matches an` the picter shows.
I`ve missed—but, say, it makes me feel fair mean
To whip the cat; an` then see my Doreen.

To see the colour comin` in `er cheeks,
  To see `er eyes grow brighter day be day,
The new, glad way she looks an` laughs an` speaks
  Is worf ten times the things I`ve chucked away.
An` there`s a secret, whispered in the dark,
`As made me `eart sing like a flamin` lark.

Jist let me tell yeh `ow it come about.
  The things that I`ve been thro` `ud fill a book.
Right frum me birf Fate played to knock me out;
  The `and that I `ad dealt to me was crook!
Then comes Doreen, an` patches up me parst;
Now Forchin`s come to bunk wiv me at larst.

First orf, one night poor Mar gits suddin fits,
  An` floats wivout the time to wave "good-byes."
Doreen is orl broke up the day she flits;
  It tears me `eart in two the way she cries.
To see `er grief, it almost made me glad
I never knowed the mar I must `ave `ad.

We done poor Muvver proud when she went out—
  A slap-up send-orf, trimmed wiv tears an` crape.
An` then fer weeks Doreen she mopes about,
  An` life takes on a gloomy sorter shape.
I watch `er face git pale, `er eyes grow dim;
Till—like some `airy angel—comes ole Jim.

A cherub togged in sunburn an` a beard
  An` duds that shouted "`Ayseed!" fer a mile:
Care took the count the minute `e appeared,
  An` sorrer shrivelled up before `is smile,
`E got the `ammer-lock on my good-will
The minute that `e sez, "So, this is Bill."

It`s got me beat. Doreen`s late Par, some way,
  Was second cousin to `is bruvver`s wife.
Somethin` like that. In less than `arf a day
  It seemed `e`d been my uncle orl me life.
`E takes me `and: "I dunno `ow it is,"
`E sez, "but, lad, I likes that ugly phiz."

An` when `e`d stayed wiv us a little while
  The `ouse begun to look like `ome once more.
Doreen she brightens up beneath `is smile,
  An` `ugs `im till I kids I`m gettin` sore.
Then, late one night, `e opens up `is scheme,
An` passes me wot looks like some fond dream.

`E `as a little fruit-farm, doin` well;
  `E saved a tidy bit to see `im thro`;
`E`s gittin` old fer toil, an` wants a spell;
  An` `ere`s a `ome jist waitin` fer us two.
"It`s `ers an` yours fer keeps when I am gone,"
Sez Uncle Jim. "Lad, will yeh take it on?"

So that`s the strength of it. An` `ere`s me now
  A flamin` berry farmer, full o` toil;
Playin` joo-jitsoo wiv an` `orse an` plough,
  An` coaxin` fancy tucker frum the soil,
An` longin`, while I wrestles with the rake,
Fer days when me poor back fergits to ache.

Me days an` nights is full of schemes an` plans
  To figger profits an` cut out the loss;
An` when the pickin`s on, I `ave me `an`s
  To take me orders while I act the boss;
It`s sorter sweet to `ave the right to rouse….
An` my Doreen`s the lady of the `ouse.

To see `er bustlin` `round about the place,
  Full of the simple joy o` doin` things,
That thoughtful, `appy look upon `er face,
  That `ope an` peace an` pride o` labour brings,
Is worth the crowd of joys I knoo one time,
An` makes regrettin` `em seem like a crime.

An` ev`ry little while ole Uncle Jim
  Comes up to stay a bit an` pass a tip.
It gives us `eart jist fer to look at `im,
  An` feel the friendship in `is warm `and-grip.
`Im, wiv the sunburn on `is kind ole dile;
`Im, wiv the sunbeams in `is sweet ole smile.

"I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez `e,
  "But that there ugly mug o` yourn I trust."
An` so I reckon that it`s up to me
  To make a bloomin` do of it or bust.
I got to take the back-ache wiv the rest,
An` plug along, an` do me little best.

Luck ain`t no steady visitor, I know;
  But now an` then it calls—fer look at me!
You wouldn`t take me, `bout a year ago,
  Free gratis wiv a shillin` pound o` tea;
Then, in a blessed leap, ole Forchin lands
A missus an` a farm fair in me `ands.
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