Classic Poem

What's he sayin'? God bless the falla!
Love is love even in a sheep —
There's some that takes it middlin' shalla;
But there's some that takes it very deep.

You mind me tellin' of Jemmy Jem,
And the son and the daughter, him and them
Up at the church agate of the carols —
" Shepherds watchin', " " Hark the harals! " —
That night the Christmas come ashore —
Christmas Rose, I tould ye afore —
Christmas, aye.
Three schools in the parish
Them times, I remember, and putty fairish
For the lek, I think. There was one at the Church,
And the little Lhen wasn' left in the lurch —
A school there, and one at the Sandy,
Up the gill, that was terbil handy
For the Jurby people; besides the school
In the Town, where none of us went of a rule,
Excep' — aw dear! poor Tommy — but stop!
And Nelly — eh? shut up! shut up!

Now the school at the Church was countin' the head
Of all the three. And Clukish, bedad,
Was a splandid Masther — lek Jemmy Jem
For shortness, but Clukish all the same —
James Clukish; and sarvin' for clerk
As well as schoolmaster. And Mark
Was the name of the son, called Marky the Bird;
And the daughter Maggie — they hadn' a third.

But the school at the Lhen was just for childher,
Enfan's in perricuts — Danny Bewildher
Was the name of the Masther, callin' him out
Of his proper name, that was Danny the Spout;
At laste — I don't know; but Skillicorn,
I've heard them sayin', the man was born —
Poor old Dan — aw, bless your sowl! —
Now was it Skillicorn, or Cowle?
Aw dear!
But Clukish (I'm too draggy),
Clukish, that's the man, and Maggie,
Fuss-rate singers, father, and son,
And daughter, lek the three in one,
Tuned to a dot, most parfec' it was.
And him upon the viol-bass —
Treminjis! noted for the long
And loud and soft and full and sthrong.
And when they were sittin' the whole of the three
Right in front of the gallery,
I've heard the Pazon say they were lookin'
Him like a big ould angel sthroogin'
The sthrings, and them lek God had given
Lek wings to heave him up to heaven.

Well, me and Maggie, I'll engage,
Was just about the same age;
And Mark, of coorse, would be younger rather;
And the two of them goin' to school to the father:
But me to the little school at the Lhen,
With Danny Bewildher — poor ould Dan!
The like of a school like that you never —
Aw, Danny thought he was taechin' clever;
But letters — no! the A B C?
And spells, and that? all fiddlededee!
" Latthars! " he'd say, " idikkiliss!
Just clap a Testament in their fiss,
And off they go — aw, bless your heart!
They'll read soon enough, if ye give them a start.
Latthars! latthars! bewild'rin' the childher " —
And so they were callin' him Danny Bewildher.

Poor Dan! " a start, " he said, " only a start " ;
But, of coorse, we were gettin' it off by heart.
That was Dan. So we wasn' goin'
To the same school; but still I was knowin'
The two very well. They were just a taste
Shuperior lek, the way they were dressed —
Shoes and stockin's — and me — aw, chut!
Never had such a thing on my fut,
Excep' a' Sunday.

But meetin' them down
On the shore very often or up on a ground
We were callin' the Lhergy, covered with goss
And flowers. And aw, the nice it was
Of an everin' to be up there,
And hear them singin'! Well, I declare
It was mortal altogether. You see
There's nothin' pleasanter to me:
I was allis terbil fond of music —
Not of my own! aw, I'd have the whole crew sick
If once I begun on you — No, no, no!
But this Maggie — beautiful! up she'd go,
Up — up — up, to the very sky.
" Give us the lark! " I'd say, and she'd fly —
At laste her vice — aw, the happy for hours
Sittin' up there among the flowers.

And all the notes that ever you heard —
That's the raison of Marky the Bird —
Imitatin' — bless ye, then!
Everything from a hawk to a wren —
Thrushes, blackbirds — very rum!
" Chit, chit! " he's sayin', meanin' " Come! "
" Come! " and the pewhit answerin' clever —
" Cha jig thy braa! " that's maynin', " Never! "
" Gow smook! gow smook! " as plain as plain —
That's " Take a smook! " the bird is sayin' —
Aye — " Chanel thy pingan ammee! "
" I hav'n' a penny " — obverse, dammee!
Curious, though, very, splainin' —
And everything has got its maynin'.

Aw, Mark was grand — " Curlew! curlew! "
What's that at all? no more till boo —
Nothin' just. But Mark had gorrit, —
" Mirrieu! mirrieu! " — far more horrit!
" Mirrieu, " dead — lek its mate, you know —
" Dead! dead! she's dead! " — aw, terbil though,
That bird, like left, like feelin' lonely.
And me? — aw, bless ye! one bird only,
Just a rook — they said I dunnit
Fuss-rate; and aisy, once I begun it;
But stopped it soon; and her with the lark;
And — " Mirrieu! mirrieu! " that was Mark.

Aw, little things thim times: but grew,
Till at last the battle of Waterloo
Betwix' my mother and Danny, that plied me
With the cane one day till he nearly destroyed me.
And home I run, and — " Mother! mother! "
And — " Dan hev kilt me! " And — " What's this bother? "
And takes and hits me a clout on the head,
And looks me all over, and " Come! " she said.
And away with me there; and in on the school —
And — " What's this, " she says, " ye dirty fool?
Ye bogh! ye kyout ye! you a man?
You sniffikin' creep! " she says to Dan —
" You? " and just a disgrace
To the place —
And the Bishop and the Archdakin —
Aye — and she'd be spakin'
To the Pazon — 'deed she'd let him know!
She would so!
And pins him theer against the wall,
And turns me up, and shows him all.

" Gerr out! " says Dan; " Gerr out! " says he.
" Is it out? " she says, and droppin' me,
" Is it out? " and grips an inkstand there,
And ups and lets him have it fair
Betwix' the eyes — aw, the ink and the blood!
And Danny all smotherin' where he stood,
And puffin' and blowin', and spatt'rin' and sputt'rin',
And all the dirt goin' sloppin' and gutt'rin'
Down his breast, and — his shirt? my annim!
Never had the lek upon him,
Nor the name o' the lek.

" Gerr urrov this school! "
Says Dan, and makes a grab at a stool,
And a run and a drive, and she couldn' recover her
Footin', and down, and Danny over her!
So there they were rowlin', and crish! crash!
And the furrims capsized, and mixed in a mash
Of murder — bless ye! stuck to him manful —
Milk and roses, milk and roses —
That was the complexion — Moses!
The beautiful she was when she threw
Back her head, and the throat came in view,
Round and white and big, the way
It mostly is with singers, they say —
Fine singers — bless ye the full!
Like a belliss! like a bull!
And the strings of her bonnet untied, and flung
Over her shouldhers; and the vice of her rung —
Aw, it rung! it rung! and all her breast
Was swelled to the feel of the happiness —
The joy — the glory — the — chut! it's no use —
" Be cautious! be cautious! " says Billy Baroose.

But Mark was a terbil sorrowful chap —
Lemoncholy — that's the tap.
And the ouldher he grew, the lemoncholier
He got. And nobody couldn' be jollier,
Nor heartier, ye know, till me —
But Mark was allis for poethry.
But the sorrowful — bless ye! lek it was bred
In the falla — Mirrieu! mirrieu! — dead!
Just so. And " Lizzen! " and then he'd repate
Pomes that'd buss the heart of a skate —
His own compozin' — aye, and still
I was likin' to hear him terrible.
'Deed he'd make ye cry — and a lightish slaeper,
And went to the town to be a draper.

And me and Betsy goin' together —
And Maggie keepin' house for the father —
And a good job too — at laste, so it appears —
A widda man, and had been for years.
And Maggie and me would be about twenty;
And me agate o' the fishin', and plenty
To do, I can tell ye, to keep the pot bilin',
When — lo and behould ye! there came to the Islan'
A terbil man.

Inspector they called him,
Inspector of Schools; and tuk and hauled him
From parish to parish — the work that was in!
And so at last he come to the Lhen.
And hed it out with Danny Dan.

" Latthars! " says Danny, " latthars! dear heart!
Bewild'rn' the childhar — give them a start!
Latthars! what's latthars? idikkiliss!
Clap a Testament in their fiss! " —
" No, " says the Inspector, " just clap this! "
And whips a book from his starn pocket —
" Now then! " Bless ye! a Congreve rocket
'd hev done just as well — not a bit! not a bit!
Not the one of them — not a line of it!
And the childhar stared —
" They're not prepared! "
Says Danny, and argued and argued away,
Till he was black in the face, as a body might say.
And then he jawed, lek fit to buss;
And then he gave a bit of a cuss;
And then the Inspector brought him up
All standin' — poor divil! and — " Stop, sir, stop! "
Says he. " In all my 'sperience
I never seen such ignorance.
And it'll be my duty to repoort "
Lek presentin' to the coort —
Or whatever it is — coort, or commission —
Something — " total inefficien' " —
Inefficien ' — that's their talk.
And so poor Danny had to walk;
And home to his people in Kirk Bride,
And kept at the Pazon till he died.
And the Bishop come, and the Captain there,
And the Lord knows who, and spakin' fair;
And they'd have the school in proper order .
And so we were hearin' nothin' furdher
Till one day there come a Scotchman — aye —
For the schoolmaster.

He wasn' shy,
This Scotchman, at all — aw, 'deed be wasn
For the cheek he might have been fuss-cosin
To Ould Harry himself. Aw, the cock o' that nose
And the strut, and the lip, and the tasty clothes!
And snuff and snarl, and snip and snap —
He was what you'd call a pushin' chap —
Pushin', bedad! and a new light,
And come to set us all right,
That was sittin' in darkness and the shadow of death;
And his name was Alexander Macbeth.

But the chap was good-lookin' — that's the pint,
And a tongue in his head like a 'varsal jint.
He could make it bitter, and he could make it sweet;
He could lift a gel from off her feet
With that tongue. And schaemin'! bless ye, the schaemin'!
And plannin' and plottin', and watchin' and aimin' —
Keen though, as keen as a hungry gull,
And still he could look that sorrowful,
And groanin', and hintin', and his eye all brimmin'
With the tears — aw, they're likin' that is women —
Being nath'ral kind, you'll understand,
And longin' to comfort every man —
Special if he's handsome, of coorse!
Sartinly; but work the oors,
Work the oors.

It wasn long
Afore Mr. Sandy was at it ding-dong
To get the school from Clukish — aye,
The principal school — aw, never say die!
And he worked and he worked, like thingumagee,
Till the Bishop appointed a committee.
And a committee, it's like you're aware,
Il do anything; anything, I'll swear,
Committees 'll do — just so, just so —
'Deed they will.

But whether or no,
This Alec Macbeth was at Clukish himself;
And " Time to be layin' upon the shelf " :
And cocked him up with humbug and flattery,
And " My exc'lin' colleague! " and Dear me! the batthar he
Would be with a pension , and Wouldn' he now?
And " Eh, Miss Clukish? " and bow-wow-wow!
The dirt! and gorr it all " arranged "
Grand, I tell ye. And so he changed
From the Lhen to the Parish: but Clukish still
To be clerk — and quite agreeable.
Tired — and lek everything in its saison.

But ould Clukish had another raison,
Another, I tell ye. He seen this rascal
Was gettin' spoony on Maggie; and ask all
The Parish, and they'd ha' tould ye at once
The match was a splendid one, a chance
That wouldn' often come Maggie's way.
I've asked the Pazon, and what did he say?
" Mr. Macbeth is a man of promise,
And a most respectable person, Thomas;
And very interestin', and clever " —
Azackly so! Now, did you ever?
Even the Pazon! ' Spectable? paff!
Clever? aye, too clever by half.
Euclid — that was some stuff he was workin'
With these lumps, that could as aisy swallow a perkin.
High, man! high — aw, bless your sowl!
Didn' a woman come and scowl
And complain; and says she, " We're gettin no rest
Of the night, " she says, " with this foolishness.
He's shoutin' most terbil in his sleep,
And me and the father can't get a peep.
And we won't stand it! no! " she said.
And he spoke her so fine; and — " Raelly! in bed! "
And he laughed, and he carried on that plaisin'
That the woman went away amazin'
The satisfied: and sleep is money,
But that chap's tongue was the divil's own honey.

And Mark was delightin' in him, too —
Aw, bless ye! he knew his Mark, he knew
The soft sort of chap — a pote! a pote!
Wasn' he one himself? and 'd know 't
In Mark at once. And heaves up the eye,
If ye seen them together, and sigh for sigh,
And groan for groan; and takin' turns
Repeatin' their pomes. And " The Manx Burns "
He'd be callin' Marky — you'll never rag urrov
A Scotchman but he'll take a shockin' brag urrov
That Burns. " Tim Shindy " — aye, just so —
" Catch her a' Saturday, " " Scots woho! "
Of coorse! of coorse! You're moral fond of them
Aren' ye, Andra? Andra's one of them.

So Mark was altogether tuk with him;
And the Pazon too. Aw dear! worse luck with him!
And me? Well, no; but I'd nothin' to say,
And every dog must have his day.
What was my 'pinion worth to be puttin'
Against the Pazon's? Not a button.
And the Pazon was hardly likin' him,
Lek what you call likin' — that's not the trim.
The Pazon, ye see, was allis for pace,
But equal, too, for righteousness,
And justice betwix' man and man —
Aw, he'd work it well if once he began,
But he wouldn' go out of his way for a fight —
Righteousness, the thing that's right —
That was the Pazon. And Dr. Bell
The same: the chap was maenin' well ,
They thought. " Sincere, " the Pazon said;
And the " valable qualities " he had —
" Valuable, " the Pazon was sayin',
He spoke that sweet, and slow, and plain.

Of coorse the Pazon was diff'rin' from me,
The two of them bein' such schullars, you see,
And knowin' a dale about books and such,
The Pazon was likin'; his talk very much —
Likin' his talk; you see, they were maetin'
On the same floors, and the nither baetin' —
Maetin', not baetin' — and still, for all,
I believe he could give the Pazon a fall
Now and then, bein' slippy and slim;
And nice for the Pazon, remindin' him
Of the time he was young, and could argufy
With the best of them. And he wouldn' try
To flatter the Pazon: he knew like a spit
That wouldn' take the Pazon a bit.
And if he was bould, ye know, and imp'rin',
The Pazon never liked them simp'rin',
Cringin' divils — and nathral kind.
So the Pazon was grippin' him mind to mind.
But heart to heart was rather me,
Heart to heart, ye know, lek it would be —
Enstinct , isn' it, they're sayin'?
Feelin's lek — lek I couldn' explain;
Couldn' grip with him, hadn' the head;
But I could hate him; and so I did.
But only a boy, and nothin' to shove me
Much in his road, that was quite above me —
Hardly know'n' me, bless ye! no;
Nor me him; and so — and so.

And Maggie, what'd ye do with her?
Lovin' him like Lucifer.
That was the deuce — no good to fret,
Love's golden net! love's golden net —
Gold! gold! pure gold! but, sink or float,
Iron is only cobwebs to 't.
Caught was Maggie — caught, caught, caught!
No matter the oughtn', no matter the ought.
Aw, I seen it — that was enough for me —
I'd had my doubts; but see is see —
At a stile on a Sunday afternoon,
The stayin', the delayin',
The snatchin', the catchin',
The detainin', the complainin',
The head so sweetly laenin'
On your shouldher —
Don't be bouldher!
On a Sunday, on a Sunday, on a Sunday, on a Sunday,
On a Sunday, on a Sunday afternoon.
Yes, I seen her at the stile,
Such a smile, at the stile,
Bless the chile! at the stile,
At the stile, at the stile, at the stile, at the stile,
Of a Sunday afternoon.

There now! take and make a tune
For my song; they'll print it for you in Doolish.
Dear heart! you'll think I'm gettin' foolish.
But if you'll see that at a stile, my men,
On a Sunday afternoon, why then
You may make up your minds what's goin' to be,
And all the rest is fiddlededee.

Behaved hisself? Of coorse, he done —
Had to behave hisself, my son.
But hang it! give the divil his due,
Just the same as I would to you —
Now stow your chaff there, Barney O'Grady!
He traited her like a puffec lady.

So now it's for a Pazon he was goin':
And how he managed there's no knowin';
But got the Bishop to examine him,
And some way or other contrived to gammon him
To promise to ordain him — ordain —
Isn' that the word? whatever they mane —
And curate! curate, I'll be bail,
Goin' for a curate to Pazon Gale.
And would have been the very next day,
If it hadn' — — but stay, my lads, now! stay!

That ev'rin' I tell ye, there come a woman,
Along the road though, cryin' uncommon —
Cryin', cryin', cryin' there —
" Where's my Sandy? where, oh where?
Where's my Sandy? my Alexander?
Where is he? where is he? " and had cried like yandher
All the passage from Whitehaven,
" Where's my Sandy, div ye ken? "
And up the pier, and the market-place,
" Where's my Sandy? " and wouldn' cease.
And she didn' regard for none that blamed her —
For of coorse there was people that fie-for-shamed her —
And a pleeceman gev her directions to go;
And " Sandy! Sandy! " she was shoutin', though.

And come upon the village street,
And could hardly stand upon her feet —
And the women about her, and — " Get some brandy! "
But she wouldn' taste it — " Sandy! Sandy!
Where's my Sandy? " And they tried some rum;
And a call for Sandy: so Sandy come.

Yes, he come; and just gave a look;
And then they say the fellow shook
All over; and then his face all fire,
And straightened hisself like goin' to deny her;
And then a rush, and her arms was round him,
And his round her. " I've found him! found him! "
She said. And he tuk her into the house,
And shut the door, and as quite as a mouse
All night, they were say'n', and plenty to listen,
And fancyin' they were hear'n' them kissin'.
But never a word of any complaint —
It's lek the poor craythur was that content
For to have him again. And before the dawn
They were off, and just a bundle, gone
To Douglas, and afterwards over to Anglan' —
No nise, no bother, no worry, no wranglin' —
Just off. The woman, ye see, was his wife —
I don't know, upon my life,
How they're doin it — hotch-potch,
Lek accordin' to the Scotch —
But lawful, I tell ye; so you'd better look out!
Lawful — not the smallest doubt.

And the chap was poor, and she'd worked like a slave
To keep him at one of these places they have
For preparin' people for schoolmasters,
And pazons and that — St. Bars? St. Burs?
St. Bees — that's it, and hardly fair —
I've heard them tellin' that's seen her there
In a little room, and to brew and bake for him,
And pickin' sticks to bake a cake for him.

Well now — Maggie? Hould your kedge!
I seen her spreadin' clothes on the hedge
Of the garden, it wouldn' be more till a week
After that, and I thought I'd speak;
And — " How are tha, Maggie, how are tha, gel? "
" Aw, " she said, " I'm very well. "
Very well! very well!
Toull the bell! toull the bell!
When ye know what it's meanin' — that very well!

She died next day — quite aisy, they said —
Mirrieu! mirrieu! dead! dead!
Dead! And Mark? He dropped the draper,
And tuk to writin' for some paper.
So ye see there's some that takes it deep?
Upon my sowl, the chap's asleep!
All right!
Good-night!