Saturday, April 11, 2015

Page 708 (18.669-706) "with their high heads... even if you shake"

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with their high heads rocking and the smell of ship
those Officers uniforms on shore leave
made me seasick

he didnt say anything
he was very serious
I had the high buttoned boots on and my skirt was blowing
she kissed me six or seven times
didnt I cry yes I believe I did or near it
my lips were taittering when I said goodbye

she had a Gorgeous wrap of some special kind of blue colour
on her for the voyage made very peculiarly to one side like
and it was extremely pretty
it got as dull as the devil after they went
I was almost planning to run away mad out of it somewhere

were never easy where we are
father or aunt or marriage waiting
always waiting to guiiiide him toooo me
waiting nor speeeed his flying feet

their damn guns bursting and booming all over the shop
especially the Queens birthday
and throwing everything down in all directions
if you didnt open the windows

when general Ulysses Grant whoever he was or did
supposed to be some great fellow
landed off the ship
and old Sprague the consul that was there from before the flood
dressed up poor man
and he in mourning for the son

then the same old bugles for reveille in the morning and drums rolling
and the unfortunate poor devils of soldiers
walking about with messtins smelling the place

more than the old longbearded jews
in their jellibees and levites assembly
and sound clear and gunfire for the men to cross the lines
and the warden marching with his keys to lock the gates
and the bagpipes

and only captain Groves and father
talking about Rorkes drift and Plevna
and sir Garnet Wolseley and Gordon at Khartoum
lighting their pipes for them everytime they went out

drunken old devil with his grog on the windowsill
catch him leaving any of it
picking his nose
trying to think of some other dirty story to tell
up in a corner

but he never forgot himself when I was there
sending me out of the room on some blind excuse
paying his compliments
the Bushmills whisky talking of course
but hed do the same to the next woman that came along
I suppose he died of galloping drink ages ago

the days like years
not a letter from a living soul
except the odd few I posted to myself with bits of paper in them
so bored sometimes I could fight with my nails

listening to that old Arab with the one eye
and his heass of an instrument singing his heah heah aheah
all my compriments on your hotchapotch of your heass
as bad as now with the hands hanging off me looking out of the window

if there was a nice fellow even in the opposite house
that medical in Holles street the nurse was after
when I put on my gloves and hat at the window to show I was going out
not a notion what I meant
arent they thick
never understand what you say even
youd want to print it up on a big poster for them
not even if you shake




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