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Robert W Service - My Prisoner
Work rating: Low

We was in a crump-`ole, `im and me;
Fightin` wiv our bayonets was we;
Fightin` `ard as `ell we was,
Fightin` fierce as fire because
    It was `im or me as must be downed;
`E was twice as big as me;
I was `arf the weight of `e;
    We was like a terryer and a `ound.

`Struth! But `e was sich a `andsome bloke.
Me, I`m `andsome as a chunk o` coke.
Did I give it `im? Not `arf!
Why, it fairly made me laugh,
    `Cos `is bloomin` bellows wasn`t sound.
Couldn`t fight for monkey nuts.
Soon I gets `im in the guts,
    There `e lies a-floppin` on the ground.

In I goes to finish up the job.
Quick `e throws `is `ands above `is nob;
Speakin` English good as me:
"`Tain`t no use to kill," says `e;
    "Can`t yer tyke me prisoner instead?"
"Why, I`d like to, sir," says I;
"But — yer knows the reason why:
    If we pokes our noses out we`re dead.

"Sorry, sir. Then on the other `and
(As a gent like you must understand),
If I `olds you longer `ere,
Wiv yer pals so werry near,
    It`s me `oo`ll `ave a free trip to Berlin;
If I lets yer go away,
Why, you`ll fight another day:
    See the sitooation I am in.

"Anyway I`ll tell you wot I`ll do,
Bein` kind and seein` as it`s you,
Knowin` `ow it`s cold, the feel
Of a `alf a yard o` steel,
    I`ll let yer `ave a rifle ball instead;
Now, jist think yerself in luck. . . .
`Ere, ol` man! You keep `em stuck,
    Them saucy dooks o` yours, above yer `ead."

`Ow `is mits shot up it made me smile!
`Ow `e seemed to ponder for a while!
Then `e says: "It seems a shyme,
Me, a man wot`s known ter Fyme:
    Give me blocks of stone, I`ll give yer gods.
Whereas, pardon me, I`m sure
You, my friend, are still obscure. . . ."
    "In war," says I, "that makes no blurry odds."

Then says `e: "I`ve painted picters too. . . .
Oh, dear God! The work I planned to do,
And to think this is the end!"
"`Ere," says I, "my hartist friend,
    Don`t you give yerself no friskin` airs.
Picters, statoos, is that why
You should be let off to die?
    That the best ye done? Just say yer prayers."

Once again `e seems ter think awhile.
Then `e smiles a werry `aughty smile:
"Why, no, sir, it`s not the best;
There`s a locket next me breast,
    Picter of a gel `oo`s eyes are blue.
That`s the best I`ve done," says `e.
"That`s me darter, aged three. . . ."
    "Blimy!" says I, "I`ve a nipper, too."

Straight I chucks my rifle to one side;
Shows `im wiv a lovin` farther`s pride
Me own little Mary Jane.
Proud `e shows me `is Elaine,
    And we talks as friendly as can be;
Then I `elps `im on `is way,
`Opes `e`s sife at `ome to-day,
    Wonders — `ow would `e `ave treated me?
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