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قراءة كتاب The Widow in the Bye Street
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 3
cannot understand my precious life,'
And Ernie would go home and beat his wife.
So the four souls are ranged, the chess-board set,
The dark, invisible hand of secret Fate
Brought it to come to being that they met
After so many years of lying in wait.
While we least think it he prepares his Mate.
Mate, and the King's pawn played, it never ceases
Though all the earth is dust of taken pieces.
II
October Fair-time is the time for fun,
For all the street is hurdled into rows
Of pens of heifers blinking at the sun,
And Lemster sheep which pant and seem to doze,
And stalls of hardbake and galanty shows,
And cheapjacks smashing crocks, and trumpets blowing,
And the loud organ of the horses going.
There you can buy blue ribbons for your girl
Or take her in a swing-boat tossing high,
Or hold her fast when all the horses whirl
Round to the steam pipe whanging at the sky,
Or stand her cockshies at the cocoa-shy,
Or buy her brooches with her name in red,
Or Queen Victoria done in gingerbread.
Then there are rifle shots at tossing balls,
'And if you hit you get a good cigar.'
And strength-whackers for lads to lamm with mauls,
And Cheshire cheeses on a greasy spar.
The country folk flock in from near and far,
Women and men, like blow-flies to the roast,
All love the fair; but Anna loved it most.
Anna was all agog to see the fair;
She made Ern promise to be there to meet her,
To arm her round to all the pleasures there,
And buy her ribbons for her neck, and treat her,
So that no woman at the fair should beat her
In having pleasure at a man's expense.
She planned to meet him at the chapel fence.
So Ernie went; and Jimmy took his mother,
Dressed in her finest with a Monmouth shawl,
And there was such a crowd she thought she'd smother,
And O, she loved a pep'mint above all.
Clash go the crockeries where the cheapjacks bawl,
Baa go the sheep, thud goes the waxwork's drum,
And Ernie cursed for Anna hadn't come.
He hunted for her up and down the place,
Raging and snapping like a working brew.
'If you're with someone else I'll smash his face,
And when I've done for him I'll go for you.'
He bought no fairings as he'd vowed to do
For his poor little children back at home
Stuck at the glass 'to see till father come.'
Not finding her, he went into an inn,
Busy with ringing till and scratching matches.
Where thirsty drovers mingled stout with gin
And three or four Welsh herds were singing catches.
The swing-doors clattered, letting in in snatches
The noises of the fair, now low, now loud.
Ern called for beer and glowered at the crowd.
While he was glowering at his drinking there
In came the gipsy Bessie, hawking toys;
A bold-eyed strapping harlot with black hair,
One of the tribe which camped at Shepherd's Bois.
She lured him out of inn into the noise
Of the steam-organ where the horses spun,
And so the end of all things was begun.
Newness in lust, always the old in love.
'Put up your toys,' he said, 'and come along,
We'll have a turn of swing-boats up above,
And see the murder when they strike the gong.'
'Don't 'ee,' she giggled. 'My, but ain't you strong.
And where's your proper girl? You don't know me.'
'I do.' 'You don't.' 'Why, then, I will,' said he.
Anna was late because the cart which drove her
Called for her late (the horse had broke a trace),
She was all dressed and scented for her lover,
Her bright blue blouse had imitation lace,
The paint was red as roses on her face,
She hummed a song, because she thought to see
How envious all the other girls would be.
When she arrived and found her Ernie gone,
Her bitter heart thought, 'This is how it is.
Keeping me waiting while the sports are on:
Promising faithful, too, and then to miss.
O, Ernie, won't I give it you for this.'
And looking up she saw a couple cling,
Ern with his arm round Bessie in the swing.
Ern caught her eye and spat, and cut her dead,