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C J Dennis - The Faltering Knight
Work rating: Low

It knocks me can in, this ere game uv life,
   A bloke gets born, grows up, looks round fer fun,
Dreams dilly dreams, then wakes to find a wife
   An` fambly round `im - all `is young days done.
An`, gazin` back, sees in `is youth a man
Scarce reckernised.  It fair knocks in me can!

Ther`s me.  I never seemed to mark no change
   As I mooched on through life frum year to year;
An` yet, at times it seems to me dead strange
   That me, uv old, is me, `oo`s sittin` `ere.
Per`aps it ain`t.  `E was a crook young coot,
While I`m a sturdy farmer, growin` froot.

But, all the same, `e wouldn`t back an` fill,
   An` argue with `imself, an` `esitate,
Once `e `ad seen the way.  `E`d find the will
   To go an` do the thing `e `ad to, straight.
That`s `ow I was; an` now-Ar, strike a light!
Life gits so mixed I can`t git nothin` right.

But wot`s the use? A bloke `as got to own,
   When once `e `as responsibility,
Ther`s certin games is better left alone
   Wot might be done if `e was only free.
Ther`s certin things - Oh, wot`s the flamin` good?
A `usband alwiz gits misun`erstood!

It`s no use hintin`.  If yeh want it straight,
   Me an` me wife ain`t seenin` eye to eye:
All ain`t been peace an` `armony uv late,
   An` clouds is comin` up in our clear sky.
I ain`t to blame, an` yet, no more`s Doreen.
It`s jist `ard Fate `as shoved `is oar between.

All marrid blokes will understand me well.
   I ain`t addressin` no remarks to those
`0o`ve learnt but `arf uv life.  The things I tell
   Is fer the ears uv fellermen that knows:
Them symperthetic `usbands `oo `ave `eard
The fog-`orn soundin` in the wifely word.

Fer when stern jooty grips a `usband`s `eart
   (That`s me) an` eggs `im on to start a scene
That`s like to tear two `appy lives apart,
   In spite uv all `er carin` (That`s Doreen)
Why, there you `ave a story that would make
A bonzer movie - with a bit uv fake.

But `ere`s the plot.  When my pal, Ginger Mick,
   Chucked in `is alley in this war we won,
`E left things tangled; fer `e went too quick
   Fer makin` last requests uv anyone.
`E jist sez to the world, when last `e spoke,
"Look after Rose!" . . . `E was a trustful bloke.

Rose lives in Spadgers Lane.  She lived, them days,
   Fer Mick`s returnin`.  When `e never came,
If she lost `old, an` took to careless ways,
   Well, I ain`t sayin` she was much to blame.
An` I don`t worry, till I `ear she`s took,
Or thinks uv takin` on to ways that`s crook.

Although I`m vegetatin` on a farm,
   I gets a city whisper now an` then.
An` when I `ear she`s like to come to `arm
   Amongst a push uv naughty spieler men,
I gets the wind up.  This is all I see:
Mick was my cobber; so it`s up to me.

That`s all I see, quite clear, with my two eyes.
   But marrid blokes will understand once more,
When I remarks that marrid blokes is wise
   `Oo `ave the sense to take a squint through four.
Four eyes is needed in reviewin` plans -
Their vision`s broader than a single man`s.

But when them four eyes sees two ways at once -
   Gets crossed - Ar, well, ther`s things in marrid life
For which a hint`s enough fer any dunce.
   Ther`s certin things between a man an` wife
That can`t be quite - But take this fer a fack:
Don`t start things uv a mornin`.  It ain`t tack.

That was me first bad break. I should `ave seen
   The supper things washed up, an` `elped a bit,
An` then `ave broke it gently to Doreen,
   Promiscus, like I jist `ad thought uv it.
But I done worse. I blurts wot I`d to say
Upon the mornin` uv a washin` day!

There`s gumption fer yeh.  eight years I been hitched -
   Eight years uv trainin`, an` I fall down flat!
Like some poor, love-sick softy `oo gets switched
   Fer tellin` "sweetie" `e don`t like `er `at,
When she`s jist come frum `avin` rows no end
About it`s trimmin` with `er dearest friend.

I owns me ta`tic`s crook.  But, all the same,
   Ther` weren`t no need fer certin things she said.
Wantin` to do good acts don`t call fer blame,
   Even on tackless `usban`s, eight years wed.
A bloke `oo jist suggests a `armless plan
Don`t need remindin` `e`s a marrid man.

`Struth!  Don`t I know it?  Can I well ferget
   While I still `ave two `ealthy ears to `ark?
Not that she torks an` mags a lot; but yet
   Ther`s somethin` in `er choice uv a remark
That gets there, worse than yappin` all day long,
An` makes me pure intentions look dead wrong.

It seems it ain`t right fer a marrid bloke
   To rescue maids. I starts to answer back;
But got took up before I `ardly spoke,
   An` innercent designs is painted black.
I calls attention to the knights uv old;
But tin knights an` romance iist leaves `er cold.

I read `er meanin` plain in `er cool eye.
   Aw, strike! I ain`t admirin` Rose!… Wot?… Me!
But when `er look sez "Rats!" where`s the reply
   A man can give, an` keep `is dignity?
It can`t be done.  When they git on that lay,
Wise coves adjourns the meet, an` fades away.

That`s wot I done.  I gits out uv the `ouse
   All dignified.  An`, jist to show `er `ow
Reel unconcerned I am, I starts to rouse
   Me neighbour, Wally Free, about `is cow
Wot`s got in to me cabbages, an` et
Close on a row uv `em.  I`ll shoot `er yet!

(A batchelor `e is, this Wally Free -
   A soljer bloke that come this way last year
An` took the little farm nex` door to me.)
   When I gets mad, `e grins frum ear to ear,
An` sez, "Cool orf," `e sez.  "It`s plain your wool
`As been pulled `ard this mornin`." `E`s a fool!

If `e don`t mend that fence . . . Ar, wot`s the good?
   I lets `im go, an` sneaks be`ind the shed,
An` sits there broodin` on a pile uv wood…
   Ther`s certin things she might `ave left unsaid.
Ther` wasn`t nothin` fer to make `er go
An` dig up chance remarks uv years ago.

Me problem`s this: Either I `urts Doreen,
   By doin` things with which she don`t agree,
Or lets Rose slide, an` treats me cobber mean -
   Ole Ginger Mick, `oo `ad no friend but me.
I ain`t a ringtail; but, by gum, it`s tough.
I loves me wife too much to treat `er rough.

If I was single . . . `Struth!  `Oo wants to be?
   Fool batchelors can larf their silly larf,
An` kid theirselves they got a pull on me.
   I`m out uv sorts, that`s all; an` more than `arf
Inclined to give some coot a crack, right now
Fer pref`rince, some insultin` single cow!
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