An’ still she smiles.  “A lucky sign,” she said. 
“Somewhere, in some ole book, one time I read,
  ‘The child will sure be blest all thro’ the years
  Who’s christened wiv ’is mother’s ‘appy tears."’

“Kiss ’im,” she sez.  I was afraid to take
Too big a mouthful of ’im, fear ’e’d break. 
  An’ when ’e gits a fair look at me phiz
  ’E puckers up ‘is nose, an’ then—­Geewhizz!

’Ow did ’e ’owl!  In’arf a second more
Nurse ’ad me ’ustled clean outside the door. 
  Scarce knowin’ ’ow, I gits out in the yard,
  An’ leans agen the fence an’ thinks reel ’ard.

A long, long time I looks at my two ’ands. 
“They’re all I got,” I thinks, “they’re all that stands
  Twixt this ‘ard world an’ them I calls me own. 
  An’ fer their sakes I’ll work ’em to the bone.”

Them vows an’ things sounds like a lot o’ guff. 
Maybe, it’s foolish thinkin’ all this stuff—­
  Maybe, it’s childish-like to scheme an’ plan;
  But—­I dunno—­it’s that way wiv a man.

I only know that kid belongs to me! 
We ain’t decided yet wot ’e’s to be. 
  Doreen, she sez ’e’s got a poit’s eyes;
  But I ain’t got much use fer them soft guys.

I think we ort to make ’im something great—­
A bookie, or a champeen’eavy-weight: 
  Some callin’ that’ll give ’im room to spread. 
  A fool could see ’e’s got a clever ’ead.

I know ‘e’s good an’ honest; for ’is eyes
Is jist like ‘ers; so big an’ lovin’-wise;
  They carries peace an’ trust where e’er they goes
  An’, say, the nurse she sez ’e’s got my nose!

Dead ring fer me ole conk, she sez it is. 
More like a blob of putty on ’is phiz,
  I think.  But ’e’s a fair ’ard case, all right. 
  I’ll swear I thort ’e wunk at me last night!

My wife an’ fam’ly!  Don’t it sound all right! 
That’s wot I whispers to meself at night. 
  Some day, I s’pose, I’ll learn to say it loud
  An’ careless; kiddin’ that I don’t feel proud.

My son!...If there’s a Gawd ‘Oos leanin’ near
To watch our dilly little lives down ’ere,
  ’E smiles, I guess, if ‘E’s a lovin’ one
   Smiles, friendly-like, to ’ear them words—­My son.

XIV.  The Mooch o’ Life

This ev’nin’ I was sittin’ wiv Doreen, Peaceful an’ ’appy wiv the day’s work done, Watchin’, be’ind the orchard’s bonzer green, The flamin’ wonder of the settin’ sun.

Another day gone by; another night
Creepin’ along to douse Day’s golden light;
Another dawnin’, when the night is gone,
To live an’ love—­an’ so life mooches on.

Times I ‘ave thought, when things was goin’ crook,
When ‘Ope turned nark an’ Love forgot to smile,
Of somethin’ I once seen in some old book
Where an ole sore-’ead arsts, “Is life worf w’ile?”

But in that stillness, as the day grows dim,
An’ I am sittin’ there wiv ‘er an’ ’im
My wife, my son! an’ strength in me to strive,
I only know—­it’s good to be alive!