Part 2 (1/2)
EZRA: Well, we'd our time of it, Fools, or no fools. And you could laugh in those days, And didn't sn.i.g.g.e.r like the ginger fizgig.
Your voice was a bird's: but you laugh little now; And--well, maybe, your voice is still a bird's.
There's birds and birds. Then, 'twas a cushy-doo's That's brooding on her nest, while the red giglet's Was a gowk's at the end of June. Do you call to mind We sat the livelong day in a golden carriage, Squandering a fortune, forby the tanner I dropt?
They wouldn't stop to let me pick it up; And when we alighted from the roundabout, Some skunk had pouched it: may he pocket it Red-hot in h.e.l.l through all eternity!
If I'd that fortune now safe in my kist!
But I was a scatterpenny: and you were bonnie-- Pink as a dog-rose were your plump cheeks then: Your hair'd the gloss and colour of clean straw: And when, at darkening, the naphtha flares were kindled, And all the red and blue and gold aglitter-- Drums banging, trumpets braying, rattles craking; And we were rus.h.i.+ng round and round, the music-- The music and the dazzle ...
ELIZA: Ay: that was it-- The rus.h.i.+ng and the music and the dazzle.
Happen 'twas on a roundabout that Jim Won Phbe Martin.
EZRA: And when you were dizzy, And all a hazegaze with the hubblyshew; You cuddled up against me, snug and warm: And round and round we went--the music braying And beating in my blood: the gold aglitter ...
ELIZA: And there's been little dazzle since, or music.
EZRA: But I was merry, till I fetched you home, To swarm the house with whinging wammerels.
ELIZA: You fetched me from my home. If I'd but known Before I crossed the threshold. I took my arles, And had to do my darg. And another bride Comes now. They'll soon be here: the train was due At half-past one: they'd walk it in two hours, Though bride and groom.
EZRA: I wish he'd married Judith.
Cow-eyed, you called the wench; but cows have horns, And, whiles, they use them when you least expect.
'Twould be no flighty heifer you'd to face, If she turned mankeen. But, I liked the runt.
Jim might do worse.
ELIZA: You liked ... But come, I'll set Your chair outside, where you can feel the sun; And hearken to the curlew; and be the first To welcome Jim and Phbe as man and wife.
Come!
EZRA: Are the curlew calling?
ELIZA: Calling? Ay!
And they've been at it all the blessed day, As on the day I came to Krindlesyke.
Likely the new bride--though 'twasn't at the time I noticed them: too heedless and new-fangled.
She may be different: she may hear them now: They're noisy enough.
EZRA: I cannot catch a note: I'm getting old, and deaved as well as darkened.
When I was young, I liked to hear the whaups Calling to one another down the slacks: And I could whistle, too, like any curlew.
'Twas an ancient bird wouldn't answer my call: and now I'm ancient myself--an old, blind, doddering heron, Dozing his day out in a syke, while minnows Play tiggy round his shanks and nibble his toes; And the hawk hangs overhead. But then the blood Was hot, and I'd a relish--such a relis.h.!.+
Keen as a kestrel ... and now ...
ELIZA: It's Jim and Phbe-- The music and the dazzle in their heads: And they'll be here ...
EZRA: I wish he'd married Judith: She's none the worse for being a ruddled ewe.
ELIZA: Nay, G.o.d forbid! At least, I'm spared that bildert.
(_EZRA rises; and ELIZA carries out his chair, and he hobbles after her. She soon returns, and puts griddle-cakes into the oven to keep hot. Presently a step is heard on the threshold, and JUDITH ELLERSHAW stands in the doorway, a baby in her arms. ELIZA does not notice her for a few moments; then, glancing up, recognizes her with a start._)
ELIZA: You, Judith Ellershaw! I thought 'twas Jim.