A Collier's Wife

Somebody's knocking at the door
    Mother, come down and see.
--I's think it's nobbut a beggar,
    Say, I'm busy.

Its not a beggar, mother,--hark
    How hard he knocks ...
--Eh, tha'rt a mard-'arsed kid,
    'E'll gi'e thee socks!

Shout an' ax what 'e wants,
    I canna come down.
--'E says "Is it Arthur Holliday's?"
    Say "Yes," tha clown.

'E says, "Tell your mother as 'er mester's
    Got hurt i' th' pit."
What--oh my sirs, 'e never says that,
    That's niver it.

Come out o' the way an' let me see,
    Eh, there's no peace!
An' stop thy scraightin', childt,
    Do shut thy face.

"Your mester's 'ad an accident,
    An' they're ta'ein 'im i' th' ambulance
To Nottingham,"--Eh dear o' me
    If 'e's not a man for mischance!

Wheers he hurt this time, lad?
    --I dunna know,
They on'y towd me it wor bad--
    It would be so!

Eh, what a man!--an' that cobbly road,
    They'll jolt him a'most to death,
I'm sure he's in for some trouble
    Nigh every time he takes breath.

Out o' my way, childt--dear o' me, wheer
    Have I put his clean stockings and shirt;
Goodness knows if they'll be able
    To take off his pit dirt.

An' what a moan he'll make--there niver
    Was such a man for a fuss
If anything ailed him--at any rate
    _I_ shan't have him to nuss.

I do hope it's not very bad!
    Eh, what a shame it seems
As some should ha'e hardly a smite o' trouble
    An' others has reams.

It's a shame as 'e should be knocked about
    Like this, I'm sure it is!
He's had twenty accidents, if he's had one;
    Owt bad, an' it's his.

There's one thing, we'll have peace for a bit,
    Thank Heaven for a peaceful house;
An' there's compensation, sin' it's accident,
    An' club money--I nedn't grouse.

An' a fork an' a spoon he'll want, an' what else;
    I s'll never catch that train--
What a trapse it is if a man gets hurt--
    I s'd think he'll get right again.

Form: Free verse

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