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Rudyard Kipling - Mary, Pity Women!
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You call yourself a man,
 For all you used to swear,
An` leave me, as you can,
 My certain shame to bear?
 I `ear!  You do not care —
You done the worst you know.
 I `ate you, grinnin` there. . . .
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!
 
     Nice while it lasted, an` now it is over —
     Tear out your `eart an` good-bye to your lover!
     What`s the use o` grievin`, when the mother that bore you
     (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you?
 
It aren`t no false alarm,
 The finish to your fun;
You — you `ave brung the `arm,
 An` I`m the ruined one;
 An` now you`ll off an` run
With some new fool in tow.
 Your `eart?  You `aven`t none. . . .
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!
 
     When a man is tired there is naught will bind `im;
     All `e solemn promised `e will shove be`ind `im.
     What`s the good o` prayin` for The Wrath to strike `im
     (Mary, pity women!), when the rest are like `im?
 
What `ope for me or — it?
 What`s left for us to do?
I`ve walked with men a bit,
 But this — but this is you.
So `elp me Christ, it`s true!
 Where can I `ide or go?
You coward through and through! . . .
 Ah, Gawd, I love you so!
 
     All the more you give `em the less are they for givin` —
     Love lies dead, an` you cannot kiss `im livin`.
     Down the road `e led you there is no returnin`
     (Mary, pity women!), but you`re late in learnin`!
 
You`d like to treat me fair?
 You can`t, because we`re pore?
We`d starve?  What do I care!
 We might, but ~this~ is shore!
 I want the name — no more —
The name, an` lines to show,
 An` not to be an `ore. . . .
Ah, Gawd, I love you so!
 
     What`s the good o` pleadin`, when the mother that bore you
     (Mary, pity women!) knew it all before you?
     Sleep on `is promises an` wake to your sorrow
     (Mary, pity women!), for we sail to-morrow!
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