# The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke/VI. The Stror 'at Coot

* The Stror 'at Coot
* R, wimmin! Wot a blinded fool I've been!
* I arsts meself, wot else could I ixpeck?
* I done me block complete on this Doreen,
* An' now me 'eart is broke, me life's a wreck!
* The dreams I dreamed, the dilly thorts I thunk
* Is up the pole, an' joy 'as done a bunk.
* Wimmin! strike! I orter known the game!
* Their tricks is crook, their arts is all dead snide.
* The 'ole world over tarts is all the same;
* All soft an' smilin' wiv no 'eart inside.
* But she fair doped me wiv 'er winnin' ways,
* Then crooled me pitch fer all me mortal days.
* They're all the same! A man 'as got to be
* Stric' master if 'e wants to snare 'em sure.
* 'E 'as to take a stand an' let 'em see
* That triflin' is a thing 'e won't indure.
* 'E wants to show 'em that 'e 'olds command,
* So they will smooge an' feed out of 'is 'and.
* ​'E needs to make 'em feel 'e is the boss,
* An' kid 'e's careless uv the joys they give.
* 'E 'as to make 'em think 'e'll feel no loss
* To part wiv any tart 'e's trackin' wiv.
* That all their pretty ways is crook pretence
* Is plain to any bloke wiv common sense.
* But when the birds is nestin' in the spring,
* An' when the soft green leaves is in the bud,
* 'E drops 'is bundle to some fluffy thing.
* 'E pays 'er 'omage—an' 'is name is Mud.
* She plays wiv 'im an' kids 'im on a treat,
* Until she 'as 'im crawlin' at 'er feet.
* An' then; when 'e's fair 'orf 'is top wiv love,
* When she 'as got 'im good an' 'ad 'er fun,
* She slings 'im over like a carst-orf glove,
* To let the other tarts see wot she's done.
* All vanity, deceit an' 'eartless kid!
* I orter known; an', spare me days, I did!
* I knoo. But when I looked into 'er eyes—
* Them shinin' eyes o' blue all soft wiv love—
* Wiv mimic love—they seemed to 'ipnertize.
* I wus content to place 'er 'igh above.
* I wus content to make of 'er a queen;
* An' so she seemed them days… O, 'Struth!… Doreen!
* ​I knoo. But when I stroked 'er glossy 'air
* Wiv rev'rint 'ands, 'er cheek pressed close to mine,
* Me lonely life seemed robbed uv all its care;
* I dreams me dreams, an' 'ope begun to shine.
* An' when she 'eld 'er lips fer me to kiss…
* Ar, wot's the use? I've done wiv all o' this!
* Wimmin!… Oh, I ain't jealous! Spare me days!
* Me? Jealous uv a knock-kneed coot like that!
* 'Im! Wiv 'is cute stror 'at an' pretty ways!
* I'd be a mug to squeal or whip the cat.
* I'm glad, I am—glad 'cos I know I'm free!
* There ain't no call to tork o' jealousy.
* I tells meself I'm well out o' the game;
* Fer look, I might 'a' married 'er—an' then….
* Ar strike! 'Er voice wus music when my name
* Wus on 'er lips on them glad ev'nin's when
* We useter meet. An' then to think she'd go…
* No, I ain't jealous—but—Ar, I dunno!
* I took a derry on this stror-'at coot
* First time I seen 'im dodgin' round Doreen.
* 'Im, wiv 'is giddy tie an' Yankee soot,
* Ferever yappin' like a tork-machine
* About "The Hoffis" where 'e 'ad a grip….
* The way 'e smiled at 'er give me the pip!
* ​She sez I stoushed 'im, when I promised fair
* To chuck it, even to a friendly spar.
* Stoushed 'im! I never roughed 'is pretty 'air!
* I only spanked 'im gentle, fer 'is mar.
* If I'd 'a' jabbed 'im once, there would 'a' been
* An inquest; an' I sez so to Doreen.
* I might 'a' took an' cracked 'im in the street,
* When she was wiv 'im there lars' Frid'y night.
* But don't I keep me temper when we meet?
* An' don't I raise me lid an' act perlite?
* I only jerks me elbow in 'is ribs,
* To give the gentle office to 'is nibs.
* Stoushed 'im! I owns I met 'im on the quite,
* An' worded 'im about a small affair;
* An' when 'e won't put up 'is 'ands to fight—
* ('E sez, "Fer public brawls 'e didn't care")—
* I lays 'im 'cross me knee, the mother’s joy,
* An' smacks 'im 'earty, like a naughty boy.
* An' now Doreen she sez I've broke me vow,
* An' mags about this coot's pore "wounded pride."
* An' then, o' course, we 'as a ding-dong row,
* Wiv 'ot an' stormy words on either side.
* She sez I done it out o' jealousy,
* An' so, we parts fer ever—'er an' me.
* ​Me jealous? Jealous of that cross-eyed cow!
* I set 'im 'cos I couldn't sight 'is face.
* 'Is yappin' fair got on me nerves, some'ow.
* I couldn't stand 'im 'angin' round 'er place.
* A coot like that!… But it don't matter much,
* She's welkim to 'im if she fancies such.
* I swear I'll never track wiv 'er no more;
* I'll never look on 'er side uv the street—
* Unless she comes an' begs me pardin for
* Them things she said to me in angry 'eat.
* She can't ixpeck fer me to smooge an' crawl.
* I ain't at any woman's beck an' call.
* Wimmin! I've took a tumble to their game.
* I've got the 'ole bang tribe uv cliners set!
* The 'ole world over they are all the same:
* Crook to the core the bunch of 'em—an' yet,
* We could 'a' been that 'appy, 'er an' me…
* But wot's it matter? Ain't I glad I'm free?
* A bloke wiv common-sense 'as got to own
* There's little 'appiness in married life.
* The smoogin' game is better left alone,
* Fer tarts is few that makes the ideel wife.
* An' them's the sort that loves wivout disguise,
* An' thinks the sun shines in their 'usban's' eyes.
* ​But when the birds is matin' in the Spring,
* An' when the tender leaves begin to bud,
* A feelin' comes—a dilly sort o' thing—
* That seems to fairly swamp 'im like a flood.
* An' when the fever 'ere inside 'im burns,
* Then freedom ain't the thing fer wot 'e yearns.
* But I 'ave chucked it all. An' yet—I own
* I dreams me dreams when soft Spring breezes stirs;
* An' often, when I'm moonin' 'ere alone,
* A lispin' maid, wiv 'air an' eyes like 'ers,
* 'Oo calls me "dad," she climbs upon me knee,
* An' yaps 'er pretty baby tork to me.
* I sort o' see a little 'ouse, it seems,
* Wiv someone waitin' for me at the gate…
* Ar, where's the sense in dreamin' barmy dreams?
* I've dreamed before, and nearly woke too late.
* Sich 'appiness could never last fer long,
* We're strangers—'less she owns that she wus wrong.
* To call 'er back I'll never lift a 'and;
* She'll never 'ear frum me by word or sign.
* Per'aps, some day, she'll come to understand
* The mess she's made o' this 'ere life o' mine.
* Oh, I ain't much to look at, I admit.
* But 'im ! The knock-kneed, swivel-eyed misfit!…