a quid
  To 'ad it on the quite, wivout this fuss,
    An' orl the starin' crowd that Mar 'ad bid
  To see this solim hitchin' up of us.

  "Fer—rich-er—er—fer—por-er." So 'e bleats.
    "In—sick-ness—an'—in-ealth,"…An' there I stands,
  An' dunno'arf the chatter I repeats,
    Nor wot the 'ell to do wiv my two 'ands.
    But 'e don't 'urry puttin' on our brands—
  This white-'aired pilot-bloke—but gives it lip,
    Dressed in 'is little shirt, wiv frills an' bands.
  "In sick-ness—an'—in—" Ar! I got the pip!
  An' once I missed me turn; an' Ginger Mick,
    'Oo's my best-man, 'e ups an' beefs it out.
  "I will!" 'e 'owls; an' fetches me a kick.
    "Your turn to chin!" 'e tips wiv a shout.
    An' there I'm standin' like a gawky lout.
  (Aw, spare me! But I seemed to be ALL 'ands!)
    An' wonders wot 'e's goin' crook about,
  Wiv 'arf a mind to crack 'im where 'e stands.

  O, lumme! But ole Ginger was a trick!
    Got up regardless fer the solim rite.
  ('E 'awks the bunnies when 'e toils, does Mick)
    An' twice I saw 'im feelin' fer a light
    To start a fag; an' trembles lest'e might,
  Thro' force o' habit like. 'E's nervis too;
    That's plain, fer orl 'is air o' bluff an' skite;
  An' jist as keen as me to see it thro'.

  But, 'struth, the wimmin! 'Ow they love this frill!
    Fer Auntie Liz, an' Mar, o' course, wus there;
  An' Mar's two uncles' wives, an' Cousin Lil,
    An' 'arf a dozen more to grin and stare.
    I couldn't make me 'ands fit anywhere!
  I felt like I wus up afore the Beak!
    But my Doreen she never turns a 'air,
  Nor misses once when it's 'er turn to speak.

  Ar, strike! No more swell marridges fer me!
    It seems a blinded year afore 'e's done.
  We could 'a' fixed it in the registree
    Twice over 'fore this cove 'ad 'arf begun.
    I s'pose the wimmin git some sorter fun
  Wiv all this guyver, an' 'is nibs's shirt.
    But, seems to me, it takes the bloomin' bun,
  This stylish splicin' uv a bloke an' skirt.

  "To—be—yer—weddid—wife—" Aw, take a pull!
    Wot in the 'ell's 'e think I come there for?
  An' so 'e drawls an' drones until I'm full,
    An' wants to do a duck clean out the door.
    An' yet, fer orl 'is 'igh-falutin' jor,
  Ole Snowy wus a reel good-meanin' bloke.
    If 'twasn't fer the 'oly look 'e wore
  Yeh'd think 'e piled it on jist fer a joke.

  An', when at last 'e shuts 'is little book,
    I 'eaves a sigh that nearly bust me vest.
  But 'Eavens! Now 'ere's muvver goin' crook!
    An' sobbin' awful on me manly chest!
    (I wish she'd give them water-works a rest.)
  "My little girl!" she 'owls. "O, treat'er well!
    She's young—too young to leave 'er muvver's nest!"
  "Orright, ole chook," I nearly sez. Oh, 'ell!

  An' then we 'as a beano up at Mar's—
    A slap-up feed, wiv wine an' two big geese.
  Doreen sits next ter me, 'er eyes like stars.
    O, 'ow I wished their blessed yap would cease!
    The Parson-bloke 'e speaks a little piece,
  That makes me blush an' 'ang me silly 'ead.
    'E sez 'e 'opes our lovin' will increase—
  I LIKES that pilot fer the things 'e said.

  'E sez Doreen an' me is in a boat,
    An' sailin' on the matrimonial sea.
  'E sez as 'ow 'e 'opes we'll allus float
    In peace an' joy, from storm an' danger free.
    Then muvver gits to weepin' in 'er tea;
  An' Auntie Liz sobs like a winded colt;
    An' Cousin Lil comes 'round an' kisses me;
  Until I feel I'll 'AVE to do a bolt.