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C J Dennis - Pilot Cove
Work rating: Low

"Young friend," `e sez . . . Young friend! Well, spare me days!
   Yeh`d think I wus `is own white `eaded boy -
The queer ole finger, wiv `is gentle ways.
   "Young friend," `e sez, "I wish`t yeh bofe great joy."
   The langwidge that them parson blokes imploy
Fair tickles me.  The way `e bleats an` brays!
      "Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez . . . Yes, my Doreen an` me
   We`re gettin` hitched, all straight an` on the square.
Fer when I torks about the registry -
   O `oly wars! yeh should `a` seen `er stare;
   "The registry?" she sez, "I wouldn`t dare!
I know a clergyman we`ll go an` see . . . 
      "Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez. An` then `e chats me straight;
   An` spouts o` death, an` `ell, an` mortal sins.
"You reckernize this step you contemplate
   Is grave?" `e sez. An` I jist stan`s an` grins;
   Fer when I chips, Doreen she kicks me shins.
"Yes, very `oly is the married state,
      Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez.  An` then `e mags a lot
   Of jooty an` the spitichuil life,
To which I didn`t tumble worth a jot.
   "I`m sure," `e sez, "as you will `ave a wife
   `Oo`ll `ave a noble infl`ince on yer life.
`Oo is `er gardjin?" I sez, "`Er ole pot" -
      "Young friend!" `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez.  "Oh fix yet thorts on `igh!
   Orl marridges is registered up there!
An` you must cleave unto `er till yeh die,
   An` cherish `er wiv love an` tender care.
   E`en in the days when she`s no longer fair
She`s still yet wife," `e sez.  "Ribuck," sez I.
      "Young friend!" `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez - I sez, "Now, listen `ere:
   This isn`t one o` them impetchus leaps.
There ain`t no tart a `undreth part so dear
   As `er.  She `as me `eart and` soul fer keeps!"
   An` then Doreen, she turns away an` weeps;
But `e jist smiles.  "Yer deep in love, `tis clear
      Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez - an tears wus in `is eyes -
   "Strive `ard.  Fer many, many years I`ve lived.
An` I kin but recall wiv tears an` sighs
   The lives of some I`ve seen in marridge gived."
   "My Gawd!" I sez.  "I`ll strive as no bloke strivved!
Fer don`t I know I`ve copped a bonzer prize?"
      "Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez. An` in `is gentle way,
   `E pats the shoulder of my dear Doreen.
"I`ve solem`ized grand weddin`s in me day,
   But `ere`s the sweetest little maid I`ve seen.
   She`s fit fer any man, to be `is queen;
An` you`re more forchinit than you kin say,
      Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez . . . A queer ole pilot bloke,
   Wiv silver `air.  The gentle way `e dealt
Wiv `er, the soft an` kindly way `e spoke
   To my Doreen, `ud make a starcher melt.
   I tell yer, square an` all, I sorter felt
A kiddish kind o` feelin` like I`d choke . . .
      "Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez, "you two on Choosday week,
   Is to be joined in very `oly bonds.
To break them vows I `opes yeh`ll never seek;
   Fer I could curse them `usbands `oo absconds!"
   "I`ll love `er till I snuff it," I responds.
"Ah, that`s the way I likes to `ear yeh speak,
      Young friend," `e sez.

"Young friend," `e sez - and then me `and `e grips -
   "I wish`t yeh luck, you an` yer lady fair.
Sweet maid." An` sof`ly wiv `is finger-tips,
   `E takes and` strokes me cliner`s shinin` `air.
   An` when I seen `er standin` blushin` there,
I turns an` kisses `er, fair on the lips.
      "Young friend!" `e sez.
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