XI.  Beef Tea

She never magged; she never said no word; But sat an’ looked at me an’ never stirred.  I could ‘a’ bluffed it out if she ’ad been Fair narked, an’ let me ’ave it wiv ’er tongue; But silence told me ’ow ’er ’eart wus wrung.  Poor ’urt Doreen!

Gorstruth!  I’d sooner fight wiv fifty men
Than git one look like that frum ’er agen!

She never moved; she never spoke no word;
That ’urt look in ’er eyes, like some scared bird: 
  “’Ere is the man I loved,” it seemed to say. 
“‘E’s mine, this crawlin’ thing, an’ I’m ’is wife;
Tied up fer good; an’ orl me joy in life
      Is chucked away!”
If she ’ad bashed me I’d ’a felt no ’urt! 
But ’ere she treats me like—­like I wus dirt.

’Ow is a man to guard agen that look? 
Fer other wimmin, when the’r blokes go crook,
  An’ lobs ’ome wiv the wages uv a jag,
They smashes things an’ carries on a treat
An’ ‘owls an’ scolds an’ wakes the bloomin’ street
      Wiv noisy mag. 
But ’er—­she never speaks; she never stirs... 
I drops me bundle...An’ the game is ’ers.

Jist two months wed!  Eight weeks uv married bliss
Wiv my Doreen, an’ now it’s come to this! 
  Wot wus I thinkin’ uv?  Gawd!  I ain’t fit
To kiss the place ’er little feet ’as been! 
’Er that I called me wife, me own Doreen! 
      Fond dreams’as flit;
Love’s done a bunk, an’ joy is up the pole;
An’ shame an’ sorrer’s roostin’ in me soul.

’Twus orl becors uv Ginger Mick—­the cow! 
(I wish’t I ’ad ’im ’ere to deal wiv now! 
  I’d pass ’im one, I would!  ’E ain’t no man!)
I meets ‘im Choosdee ev’nin’ up the town. 
“Wot O,” ’e chips me.  “Kin yeh keep one down?”
       I sez I can. 
We ’as a couple; then meets three er four
Flash coves I useter know, an’ ’as some more.

“’Ow are yeh on a little gamble, Kid?”
Sez Ginger Mick.  “Lars’ night I’m on four quid. 
  Come ‘round an’ try yer luck at Steeny’s school.” 
“No,” sez me conscience.  Then I thinks, “Why not? 
An’ buy ’er presents if I wins a pot? 
      A blazin’ fool
I wus.  Fer ‘arf a mo’ I ’as a fight;
Then conscience skies the wipe...Sez I “Orright.”

Ten minutes later I was back once more,
Kip in me ’and, on Steeny Isaac’s floor,
  Me luck was in an’ I wus ‘eadin’ good. 
Yes, back agen amongst the same old crew! 
An’ orl the time down in me ’eart I knew
      I never should... 
Nex’ thing I knows it’s after two o’clock—­
Two in the mornin’!  An’ I’ve done me block!

“Wot odds?” I thinks.  “I’m in fer it orright.” 
An’ so I stops an’ gambles or] the night;
  An’ bribes me conscience wiv the gilt I wins. 
But when I comes out in the cold, ’ard dawn
I know I’ve crooled me pitch; me soul’s in pawn. 
      My flamin’ sins
They ’its me in a ’eap right where I live;
Fer I ’ave broke the solim vow I give.