An' then fer weeks Doreen she mopes about,
An' life takes on a gloomy sorter shape.
I watch 'er face git pale, 'er eyes grow dim;
Till--like some 'airy angel--comes ole Jim.
A cherub togged in sunburn an' a beard
An' duds that shouted "'Ayseed!" fer a mile:
Care took the count the minute 'e appeared,
An' sorter shrivelled up before 'is smile,
'E got the 'ammer-lock on my good-will
The minute that 'e sez, "So, this is Bill."
It's got me beat. Doreen's late Par, some way,
Was second cousin to 'is bruvver's wife.
Somethin' like that. In less than 'arf a day
It seemed 'e'd been my uncle orl me life.
'E takes me 'and: "I dunno 'ow it is,"
'E sez, "but, lad, I likes that ugly phiz."
An' when 'e'd stayed wiv us a little while
The 'ouse begun to look like 'ome once more.
Doreen she brightens up beneath 'is smile,
An' 'ugs 'im till I kids I'm gettin' sore.
Then, late one night, 'e opens up 'is scheme,
An' passes me wot looks like some fond dream.
'E 'as a little fruit-farm, doin' well;
'E saved a tidy bit to see 'im thro';
'E's gettin' old fer toil, an' wants a spell;
An' 'ere's a 'ome jist waitin' fer us two.
"It's 'ers an' yours fer keeps when I am gone,"
Sez Uncle Jim. "Lad, will yeh take it on?"
So that's the strength of it. An' 'ere's me now
A flamin' berry farmer, full o' toil;
Playin' joo-jitsoo wiv an' 'orse an' plough,
An' coaxin' fancy tucker frum the soil,
An' ]ongin', while I wrestles with the rake,
Fer days when me poor back fergits to ache.
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