Читать книгу Songs Of The Road - Артур Конан Дойл, Исмаил Шихлы - Страница 4

     I gave the 'orse 'is evenin' feed,

          And bedded of 'im down,

     And went to 'ear the sing-song

          In the bar-room of the Crown,

     And one young feller spoke a piece

          As told a kind of tale,

     About an Arab man wot 'ad

          A certain 'orse for sale.

     I 'ave no grudge against the man —

          I never 'eard 'is name,

     But if he was my closest pal

          I'd say the very same,

     For wot you do in other things

          Is neither 'ere nor there,

     But w'en it comes to 'orses

          You must keep upon the square.

     Now I'm tellin' you the story

          Just as it was told last night,

     And if I wrong this Arab man

          Then 'e can set me right;

     But s'posin' all these fac's are fac's,

          Then I make bold to say

     That I think it was not sportsmanlike

          To act in sich a way.

     For, as I understand the thing,

          'E went to sell this steed —

     Which is a name they give a 'orse

          Of some outlandish breed – ,

     And soon 'e found a customer,

          A proper sportin' gent,

     Who planked 'is money down at once

          Without no argument.

     Now when the deal was finished

          And the money paid, you'd think

     This Arab would 'ave asked the gent

          At once to name 'is drink,

     Or at least 'ave thanked 'im kindly,

          An' wished 'im a good day,

     And own as 'e'd been treated

          In a very 'andsome way.

     But instead o' this 'e started

          A-talkin' to the steed,

     And speakin' of its "braided mane"

          An' of its "winged speed,"

     And other sich expressions

          With which I can't agree,

     For a 'orse with wings an' braids an' things

          Is not the 'orse for me.

     The moment that 'e 'ad the cash —

          Or wot 'e called the gold,

     'E turned as nasty as could be:

          Says 'e, "You're sold!   You're sold!"

     Them was 'is words; it's not for me

          To settle wot he meant;

     It may 'ave been the 'orse was sold,

          It may 'ave been the gent.

     I've not a word to say agin

          His fondness for 'is 'orse,

     But why should 'e insinivate

          The gent would treat 'im worse?

     An' why should 'e go talkin'

          In that aggravatin' way,

     As if the gent would gallop 'im

          And wallop 'im all day?

     It may 'ave been an' 'arness 'orse,

          It may 'ave been an 'ack,

     But a bargain is a bargain,

          An' there ain't no goin' back;

     For when you've picked the money up,

          That finishes the deal,

     And after that your mouth is shut,

          Wotever you may feel.

     Supposin' this 'ere Arab man

          'Ad wanted to be free,

     'E could 'ave done it businesslike,

          The same as you or me;

     A fiver might 'ave squared the gent,

          An' then 'e could 'ave claimed

     As 'e'd cleared 'imself quite 'andsome,

          And no call to be ashamed.

     But instead 'o that this Arab man

          Went on from bad to worse,

     An' took an' chucked the money

          At the cove wot bought the 'orse;

     'E'd 'ave learned 'im better manners,

          If 'e'd waited there a bit,

     But 'e scooted on 'is bloomin' steed

          As 'ard as 'e could split.

     Per'aps 'e sold 'im after,

          Or per'aps 'e 'ires 'im out,

     But I'd like to warm that Arab man

          Wen next 'e comes about;

     For wot 'e does in other things

          Is neither 'ere nor there,

     But w'en it comes to 'orses

          We must keep 'im on the square.