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C J Dennis - Narcissus
Work rating: Low

A man`s a mug.  I`ve worked the `ole thing out
   To-day, down in the orchard where I sat
   Runnin` the wheels red-`ot beneath me `at,
An` wras`lin` fervud with a sudden doubt -
   A doubt wot`s plugged me fair bang on the point
   An` jolted all me glad dreams out uv joint.

It`s been a pearlin` day.  The birds above
   Up in the trees sung fit to break their `earts.
It seemed, some`ow, the `ole world`s makin` love,
   Ixceptin` me.  An` then an` there I starts
To think things out an` git me bearin`s straight,
Becoz - Well, I ain`t been meself uv late.

I`ve flopped.  It was the parson put me wise,
   Before `e left. I `ad been full uv skite.
   I was the `ero uv the piece all right.
Me chest was out, me `ead was twice the size
   It used to be. I felt I was king-pin.
   Did n`t the papers `ave me photer in?

I was that puffed with pride I never stopped
   To search me soul fer signs uv wear an` tear.
I loved meself so much I never dropped
   To any blot or blemish anywhere.
The Lord `Igh Muck-a-muck, wot done the trick,
An` dug the Murray with `is little pick.

When I think back on it I go all `ot.
   I was that blind I never even seen,
   Nor looked to see no changes in Doreen.
I was content to `ave `er on the spot
   Dodgin` about the `ouse in `er calm way,
   To chirp, "Yes, Bill," to everything I say.

The parson punchered me.  `E`s alwiz `ad
   A trick uv callin` me by fancy names.
In town `e christened me "Sir Gally`ad,"
   `Oo was, it seems, a knight wot rescued dames,
But never spoke out uv `is turn to none,
Becoz `is `eart was pure.  `E took the bun.

But now "Narcissy" is the moniker
   `E wishes on me; an` I arst fer light.
   "Narcissy?" I remarks.  "Don`t sound perlite.
`Oo was this bird?  There looks to be a slur
   Or somethin` sly about that cissy touch."
   "A bloke," `e sez, "`oo liked `imself too much."
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I looks quick fer that twinkle in `is eye
   Wot tells me if `e`s kiddin` me or not.
But it ain`t there.  "Fair dinkum," I reply,
   "You don`t mean - You ain`t `intin` that I`ve got -"
"I mean," `e sez, "you should give thanks through life
That you `ave been so lucky in your wife."

`E don`t `arp on the toon; but turns away.
   "Your daffydils," `e sez, "makes quite a show."
   An` latter, when it came `is time to go,
`E shakes me `and reel arty, twinklin` gay…
   But, "lucky in me wife?" Where did I `ear
   Somethin` like that before?  It sounds dead queer.

I seeks the orchard, with a sickly grin,
   To sort meself out straight an` git a grip.
   Them `ints the parson drops give me the pip.
I don`t quite see where daffvdils comes in;
   But, "lucky in me wife!" Why, spare me days,
   Yeh`d think I beat `er, by the things `e says!

I tries to kid meself: to back me skite,
   An` `old that wad uv self-content I `ad.
It ain`t no use. I know the parson`s right:
   Clean through the piece I `ave been actin` bad.
I`ve been so full uv Me, I`ve treated `er
Like she was - well, a bit uv furnicher.

Yet, "furnicher" don`t seem to put it good.
   Nothin` so wooden don`t describe Doreen.
   All through the game, some`ow, she`s alwiz been -
Well, somewhere `andy, `elpin` where she could,
   An` manidgin`, an`… Bli`me!  Now I see!
   Wot she did manidge was the block`ead - me!…

Well, I`m the goat. I s`pose I should `ave seen
   I was n`t `ead an` tail uv all the show.
A bit uv putty in `er `ands I been!
   An` so bullheaded that I did n`t know.
Only fer `er things might `ave - Spare me days!
I never will git used to women`s ways.

Only fer `er Rose might… But wot`s the use?
   Shakespeare `as said it right: the world`s a stage;
   An` all us `uman ducks an` dames ingage
In actin` parts.  Mostly the men cut loose,
   An` fights, an` throws their weight about a lot.
   But, listen.  It`s the women weave the plot.

The women… Well, it`s been a bonnie day.
   Blue-bonnets, dodgin` in an` out the ferns,
Looks like blue chips uv sky come down to play.
   An` down the valley, where the creek track turns,
I see Rose, arm-in-arm with Wally Free.
The `ole world`s makin` love, ixceptin` me.

Huh!  Women!… Yes; a man`s a mug, all right…
   I sees the sof` clouds sailin` in the sky,
   An` bits uv thistledown go driftin` by.
"Jist like men`s lives," I think.  An` then I sight,
   Fair in me cabbages, ole Wally`s cow.
   That fence - But them plants ain`t worth savin`, now.

Women… I wonder `oo Narcissy was…
   Green trees agin blue `ills don`t look `arf bad…
I s`pose `e got the cissy part becoz
   `Is ways was womanish.  Well, serve `im glad
That cow uv Wally`s ort to milk a treat
With plenty good young cabbage plants to cat.

Women is often `elpful - in a sense…
   Lord, it`s a lazy day!  Before it fails,
   I better git a `ammer an` some nails
An` dodge acrost an` mend that bit uv fence.
   It`s up to me to try an` put things right,
   An` - well, I`ll `elp Doreen wash up tonight.
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