# The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke/XII. Uncle Jim

* Uncle Jim
* GOT no time fer wasters, lad," sez 'e
* "Give me a man wiv grit," sez Uncle Jim.
* 'E bores 'is cute ole eyes right into me,
* While I stares 'ard an' gives it back to 'im.
* Then orl at once 'e grips me 'and in 'is;
* "Some'ow," 'e sez, "I like yer ugly phiz."
* "Yeh got a look," 'e sez, "like you could stay;
* Altho' yeh mauls King's English when yeh yaps,
* An' 'angs flash frills on ev'rythink yeh say.
* I ain't no grammarist meself, per'aps,
* But langwidge is a 'elp, I owns," sez Unk,
* "When things is goin' crook." An' 'ere 'e wunk.
* "Yeh'll find it tough," 'e sez, "to knuckle down.
* Good farmin' is a gift—like spoutin' slang.
* Yeh'll 'ave to cut the luxuries o' town,
* An' chuck the manners uv this back-street gang;
* Fer country life ain't cigarettes and beer."
* "I'm game," I sez. Sez Uncle, "Put it 'ere!"
* ​Like that I took the plunge, an' slung the game.
* I've parted wiv them joys I 'eld most dear;
* I've sent the leery bloke that bore me name
* Clean to the pack wivout one pearly tear;
* An' frum the ashes of a ne'er-do-well
* A bloomin' farmer's blossomin' like 'ell.
* Farmer! That's me! Wiv this 'ere strong right 'and
* I've gripped the plough; and blistered jist a treat.
* Doreen an' me 'as gone upon the land.
* Yours truly fer the burden an' the 'eat!
* Yours truly fer upendin' chunks o' soil!
* The 'ealthy, 'ardy, 'appy son o' toil!
* I owns I've 'ankered fer me former joys;
* I've 'ad me hours o' broodin' on me woes;
* I've missed the comp'ny, an' I've missed the noise,
* The football matches an' the picter shows.
* I've missed—but, say, it makes me feel fair mean
* To whip the cat; an' then see my Doreen.
* To see the colour comin' in 'er cheeks,
* To see 'er eyes grow brighter day be day,
* The new, glad way she looks an' laughs an' speaks
* Is worf ten times the things I've chucked away.
* An' there's a secret, whispered in the dark,
* 'As made me 'eart sing like a flamin' lark.
* ​Jist let me tell yeh 'ow it come about.
* The things that I've been thro' 'ud fill a book,
* Right frum me birf Fate played to knock me out;
* The 'and that I 'ad dealt to me was crook!
* Then comes Doreen, an' patches up me parst;
* Now Forchin's come to bunk wiv me at larst.
* First orf, one night poor Mar gits suddin fits,
* An' floats wivout the time to wave "good-byes."
* Doreen is orl broke up the day she flits;
* It tears me 'eart in two the way she cries.
* To see 'er grief, it almost made me glad
* I never knowed the mar I must 'ave 'ad.
* We done poor Muvver proud when she went out—
* A slap-up send-orf, trimmed wiv tears an' crape.
* An' then fer weeks Doreen she mopes about,
* An' life takes on a gloomy sort o' 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' sorrer 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's saved a tidy bit to see 'im thro';
* 'E's gittin' old fer toil, an' wants a spell;
* An' 'ere's a 'ome jist waitin' fer us two.
* "It's 'er's 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' longin', while I wrestles with the rake,
* Fer days when my poor back fergits to ache.
* ​Me days an' nights is full uv schemes an' plans
* To figger profits an' cut out the loss;
* An' when the pickin's on, I 'ave me 'an's
* To take me orders while I act the boss;
* It's sorter sweet to 'ave the right to rouse…
* An' my Doreen's the lady uv the 'ouse.
* To see 'er bustlin' 'round about the place,
* Full uv the simple joy o' doin' things,
* That thoughtful, 'appy look upon 'er face,
* That 'ope an' peace an' pride o' labour brings,
* Is worth the crowd uv joys I knoo one time,
* An' makes regrettin' 'em seem like a crime.
* An' ev'ry little while ole Uncle Jim
* Comes up to stay a bit an' pass a tip.
* It gives us 'eart jist fer to look at 'im,
* An' feel the friendship in 'is warm 'and-grip.
* 'Im, wiv the sunburn on 'is kind ole dile;
* 'Im, wiv the sunbeams in 'is sweet ole smile.
* "I got no time fer wasters, lad," sez 'e,
* "But that there ugly mug o' yourn I trust."
* An' so I reckon that it's up to me
* To make a bloomin' do uv it or bust.
* I got to take the back-ache wiv the rest,
* An' plug along, an' do me little best.
* ​Luck ain't no steady visitor, I know;
* But now an' then it calls—fer look at me!
* You wouldn't take me, 'bout a year ago,
* Free gratis wiv a shillin' pound o' tea;
* Then, in a blessed 'eap, ole Forchin lands
* A missus an' a farm fair in me 'ands.