The Nark

WAIT till after Chewsdy, wife.
’Taint far ahead to look,
A change is comin’ in your life,
Or else I’m much mistook,
I’ll buy you rugs an’ furs an’ things
An’ ’dimonds by the ton.
We’re ’ome at last when Chewsdy’s past
An’ Melbun Cup is run.

Wait till after Chewsdy, Bill.
You’re silly if you frets;
I’ll pay that quid; you know I will;
An’ settle all me debts.
The tip’s a cert; the ’orse can spurt
An’ last the distance too.
I’m ’ome all right by Chewsdy night
When all me dreams come true.

I knows, I knows; too well I knows
I’ve said it all before;
But blokes ’as got to learn I s’pose;
I’ll never switch no more.
Me mind’s made up. This Melbun Cup
You’ll ’ave no chance to scoff.
I mean to stick to my first pick
An’ never git put off.

So wait till after Chewsdy, mate.
Till after Chewsdy, wife.
A man can’t be the fool of fate
For all ’is nach’ral life.
An’ yet, an’ yet, I can’t forget
Past years, an’ nags I backs.
In pitchers grim I visions ’im,
That coot wot dogs me tracks—

Never the same bloke year by year,
’E waits there on the course
To pour ’is poison in my ear —
That ’ound wot knows a ’orse.
’E knows a man wot knows a man
Wot knows the stable well.
’E knows, ’e knows — Lord! wot ’e knows
’Ud take a book to tell.

An’ must I meet ’im once again —
My Jonah, still disguised?
An’ must I ’ark to that dead nark
An’ stand there, ’ypnotised?
Keep ’im away! Keep me, I pray,
From speakin’, still bewitched,
The bitterest word a man e’er ’eard:
“I ’ad it; but I switched.”