# The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke/V. The Play

* The Play
* OT'S in a name?" she sez… An' then she sighs,
* An' clasps 'er little 'ands, an' rolls 'er eyes.
* "A rose," she sez, "be any other name
* Would smell the same.
* Oh, w'erefore art you Romeo, young sir?
* Chuck yer ole pot, an' change yer moniker!"
* Doreen an' me, we bin to see a show—
* The swell two-dollar touch. Bong tong, yeh know.
* A chair apiece wiv velvit on the seat;
* A slap-up treat.
* The drarmer's writ be Shakespeare, years ago,
* About a barmy goat called Romeo.
* "Lady, be yonder moon I swear!" sez 'e.
* An' then 'e climbs up on the balkiney;
* An' there they smooge a treat, wiv pretty words
* Like two love-birds.
* I nudge Doreen. She whispers, "Ain't it grand!"
* 'Er eyes is shinin', an' I squeeze 'er 'and.
* ​"Wot's in a name?" she sez. 'Struth, I dunno.
* Billo is just as good as Romeo.
* She may be Juli-er or Juli-et—
* 'E loves 'er yet.
* If she's the tart 'e wants, then she's 'is queen,
* Names never count… But ar, I like "Doreen!"
* A sweeter, dearer sound I never 'eard;
* Ther's music 'angs around that little word,
* Doreen!… But wot wus this I starts to say
* About the play?
* I'm off me beat. But when a bloke's in love
* 'Is thorts turns 'er way, like a 'omin' dove.
* This Romeo 'e's lurkin' wiv a crew—
* A dead tough crowd o' crooks called Montague.
* 'Is cliner's push—wot's nicknamed Capulet—
* They 'as 'em set.
* Fair narks they are, jist like them back-street clicks,
* Ixcep' they fights wiv skewers 'stid o' bricks.
* Wot's in a name? Wot's in a string o' words?
* They scraps in ole Verona wiv the'r swords,
* An' never give a bloke a stray dog's chance,
* An' that's Romance.
* But when they deals it out wiv bricks an' boots
* In Little Lons., they're low, degraded broots.
* ​Wot's jist plain stoush wiv us, right 'ere to-day,
* Is "valler" if yer fur enough away.
* Some time, some writer bloke will do the trick
* Wiv Ginger Mick,
* Uv Spadger's Lane. 'E'll be a Romeo,
* When 'e's bin dead five 'undred years or so.
* Fair Juli-et, she gives 'er boy the tip.
* Sez she: "Don't sling that crowd o' mine no lip;
* An' if yeh run agin a Capulet,
* Jist do a get,"
* 'E swears 'e's done wiv lash; 'e'll chuck it clean.
* (Same as I done when I first met Doreen.)
* They smooge some more at that. Ar, strike me blue!
* It gimme Joes to sit an' watch them two!
* 'E'd break away an' start to say good-bye,
* An' then she'd sigh
* "Ow, Ro-me-o!" an' git a strangle-holt,
* An' 'ang around 'im like she feared 'e'd bolt.
* Nex' day 'e words a gorspil cove about
* A secrit weddin'; an' they plan it out.
* 'E spouts a piece about 'ow 'e's bewitched:
* Then they git 'itched…
* Now, 'ere's the place where I fair git the pip!
* She's 'is for keeps, an' yet 'e lets 'er slip!
* ​Ar! but 'e makes me sick! A fair gazob!
* 'E's jist the glarssy on the soulful sob,
* 'E'll sigh and spruik, an' 'owl a love-sick vow—
* (The silly cow!)
* But when 'e's got 'er, spliced an' on the straight,
* 'E crools the pitch, an' tries to kid its Fate.
* Aw! Fate me foot! Instid of slopin' soon
* As 'e was wed, orf on 'is 'oneymoon,
* 'Im an' 'is cobber, called Mick Curio,
* They 'ave to go
* An' mix it wiv that push o' Capulets.
* They look fer trouble; an' it's wot they gets.
* A tug named Tyball (cousin to the skirt)
* Sprags 'em an' makes a start to sling off dirt.
* Nex' minnit there's a reel ole ding-dong go—
* 'Arf round or so.
* Mick Curio, 'e gits it in the neck,
* "Ar rats!" 'e sez, an' passes in 'is check.
* Quite natchril, Romeo gits wet as 'ell.
* "It's me or you!" 'e 'owls, an' wiv a yell,
* Plunks Tyball through the gizzard wiv 'is sword,
* 'Ow I ongcored!
* "Put in the boot!" I sez. "Put in the boot"
* "'Ush!" sez Doreen… "Shame!" sez some silly coot.
* ​Then Romeo, 'e dunno wot to do.
* The cops gits busy, like they allwiz do,
* An' nose eround until 'e gits blue funk
* An' does a bunk.
* They wants 'is tart to wed some other guy.
* "Ah, strike!" she sez. "I wish that I could die!"
* Now, this 'ere gorspil bloke's a fair shrewd 'ead.
* Sez 'e "I'll dope yeh, so they'll think yer dead."
* (I tips 'e was a cunnin' sort, wot knoo
* A thing or two).
* She takes 'is knock-out drops, up in 'er room:
* They think she's snuffed, an' plant 'er in 'er tomb.
* Then things gits mixed a treat an' starts to whirl.
* 'Ere's Romeo comes back an' finds 'is girl
* Tucked in 'er little coffing, cold an' stiff,
* An' in a jiff,
* 'E swallers lysol, throws a fancy fit,
* 'Ead over turkey, an' 'is soul 'as flit.
* Then Juli-et wakes up an' sees 'im there,
* Turns on the water-works an' tears 'er 'air,
* "Dear love," she sez, "I cannot live alone!"
* An' wif a moan,
* She grabs 'is pockit knife, an' ends 'er cares…
* "Peanuts or lollies!" sez a boy upstairs.