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C J Dennis - Spike Wegg
Work rating: Low

Me photer`s in the papers!  `Oly wars!
   A `ero, I`ve been called in big, black type.
   I `ad idears the time was close on ripe
         Fer some applorse
To come my way, on top uv all me bumps.
Now it`s come sudden, an` it`s come in lumps.

I`ve given interviews, an` `ad me dile
   Bang on the front page torkin` to a `tec`.
   Limelight?  I`m swimmin` in it to the neck!
         Me sunny smile
Beams on the crowd.  Misun`erstandin`s past;
An` I `ave come into me own, at last.

But all the spot-light ain`t alone fer me;
   `Arf, I am glad to say, is made to shine
   Upon that firm an` trusted friend uv mine,
         Ole Wally Free -
A man, I`ve alwiz said, `oo`d make `is mark…
But, case you `ave n`t `eard the story, `ark:

Spike Wegg - Yes, `im.  I thort, the same as you,
   That `e was dished an` done fer in the Lane.
   I don`t ixpeck to cross `is tracks again;
         An` never knoo
That `e `ad swore to git me one uv those
Fine days, an` make `is alley good with Rose.

Spike `ad been aimin` `igh in `is profesh.
   Bank robberies, an` sich, was `is noo lurk;
   An` one big job `ad set the cops to work
         To plan a fresh
Campaign agin this crook.  They want `im more
Than ever they `ave wanted `im before.

They yearn fer `im, reel passionit, they do.
   Press an` perlice both `ankers fer `im sore.
   "Where is Spike Wegg?" the daily `eadlines roar.
         But no one knoo.
Or them that did `ad fancies to be dumb.
The oysters uv the underworld was mum.

It was the big sensation uv the day.
   Near `arf the Force was nosin` fer the bloke
   Wot done the deed; but Spike was well in smoke,
         An` like to stay.
Shots `ad been fired; an` one poor coot was plugged.
An` now the crowd arsts, "Why ain`t no one jugged?"

That`s `ow the land lies when, one day, I go
   Down to the orchid paddick, where I see
   A strange cove playin` spy be`ind a tree.
         I seem to know
The shape uv that there sneakin`, slinkin` frame,
An` walk across to git on to `is game.

It was red-`ot! I grunt, an` break away
   To `old `im orf.  I`m battlin` fer me life -
   All-in, a cert; fer `e`s still got the knife.
         An`, by the way
`E looks, I know it`s either `im or me
`As an appointment at the cemet`ry.

I`ve often wondered `ow a feller feels
   When `e is due to wave the world good-bye.
   They say `is past life flicks before `is eye
         Like movie reels.
My past life never troubled me a heap.
All that I want to do is go to sleep.

I`m gittin` weak; I`m coughin`, chokey like;
   Me legs is wobbly, an` I`m orful ill.
   But I `ave got some fight left in me still.
         I look at Spike;
An` there I see the dirty look wot shows
`E`s got me where `e wants me - an` `e knows.

I think that`s where I fell.  Nex` thing I see
   Is Spike Wegg down, an` fair on top uv `im
   Some one that`s breathin` ard an` fightin` grim.
         It`s Wally Free!
It`s good old Wally!  `E `as got Spike pinned,
Both `ands, an` kneelin` `eavy on `is wind.

So fur so good.  But I ain`t outed yet.
   On `ands an` knees I crawls to reach `em, slow.
   (Spike`s got the knife, an` Wally dare n`t let go)
         Then, as I get
Close up, I `ear Rose screamin`, then me wife.
I`m faint. I twist Spike`s arm - an` grab the knife.

That`s all.  At least, as far as I`m concerned,
   I took no further interest in the show.
   The things wot `appened subsekint I know
          Frum wot I learned
When I come-to, tucked in me little bed,
Me chest on fire, an` cold packs on me `ead.

I `ear they tied Spike up with `arness straps
   An` bits uv `ay-band, till the John `Ops come;
   An` watched `im workin` out a mental sum -
          Free an` some chaps -
Uv `ow much time `e`d git fer this last plot
An` other jobs.  The answer was, a lot.

Then that nex` day! an` after, fer a week!
   Yeh`d think I owned the winner uv a Cup.
   Pressmen, perlice, the parson, all rush up;
          An` I`ve to speak
Me piece, to be took down in black an` white,
In case I chuck a seven overnight.

The papers done us proud.  Near every day
   Some uv `em printed photers uv me map
   (Looked at some ways, I ain`t too crook a chap)
         But, anyway
I`ve `ad enough.  I wish they`d let me be.
I`m sick uv all this cheap publicity.

But sich is fame.  Less than a month ago.
   The whole thing started with a naggin` tooth.
   Now I am famis; an`, to tell the truth -
         Well, I dunno -
I`d `ardly like to bet yeh that I don`t
Git arst to act in pitchers - but I won`t.
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