Читать книгу Songs Of The Road - Артур Конан Дойл, Исмаил Шихлы - Страница 7

     Not tired of 'earin' stories! You're a nailer,

             so you are!

     I thought I should 'ave choked you off with

             that 'ere motor-car.

     Well, mister, 'ere's another; and, mind you,

             it's a fact,

     Though you'll think perhaps I copped it

             out o' some blue ribbon tract.

     It was in the days when farmer men were

             jolly-faced and stout,

     For all the cash was comin' in and little

             goin' out,

     But now, you see, the farmer men are

             'ungry-faced and thin,

     For all the cash is goin' out and little

             comin' in.

     But in the days I'm speakin' of, before

             the drop in wheat,

     The life them farmers led was such as

             couldn't well be beat;

     They went the pace amazin', they 'unted

             and they shot,

     And this 'ere Jeremiah Brown the liveliest

             of the lot.

     'E was a fine young fellar; the best roun'

             'ere by far,

     But just a bit full-blooded, as fine young

             fellars are;

     Which I know they didn't ought to, an' it's

             very wrong of course,

     But the colt wot never capers makes a

             mighty useless 'orse.

     The lad was never vicious, but 'e made the

             money go,

     For 'e was ready with 'is "yes," and back-

             ward with 'is "no."

     And so 'e turned to drink which is the

             avenoo to 'ell,

     An' 'ow 'e came to stop 'imself is wot' I

             'ave to tell.

     Four days on end 'e never knew 'ow 'e 'ad

             got to bed,

     Until one mornin' fifty clocks was tickin'

             in 'is 'ead,

     And on the same the doctor came, "You're

             very near D.T.,

     If you don't stop yourself, young chap,

             you'll pay the price," said 'e.

     "It takes the form of visions, as I fear

             you'll quickly know;

     Perhaps a string o' monkeys, all a-sittin' in

             a row,

     Perhaps it's frogs or beetles, perhaps it's

             rats or mice,

     There  are  many  sorts   of visions and

             there's none of 'em is nice."

     But Brown 'e started laughin': "No

             doctor's muck," says 'e,

     "A take-'em-break-'em gallop is the only

             cure for me!

     They 'unt to-day down 'Orsham way.

             Bring round the sorrel mare,

     If them monkeys come inquirin' you can

             send 'em on down there."

     Well, Jeremiah rode to 'ounds, exactly as

             'e said.

     But all the time the doctor's words were

             ringin' in 'is 'ead —

     "If you don't stop yourself, young chap,

             you've got to pay the price,

     There are many sorts of visions, but none

             of 'em is nice."

     They found that day at Leonards Lee and

             ran to Shipley Wood,

     'Ell-for-leather all  the way, with scent

             and weather good.

     Never a check to 'Orton Beck and on

             across the Weald,

     And all the way the Sussex clay was weed-

             in' out the field.

     There's not a man among them could

             remember such a run,

     Straight as a rule to Bramber Pool and on

             by Annington,

     They followed   still  past  Breeding   'ill

             and on by Steyning Town,

     Until they'd cleared the 'edges and were

             out upon the Down.

     Full thirty mile from Plimmers Style,

             without a check or fault,

     Full thirty mile the 'ounds 'ad run and

             never called a 'alt.

     One by one the Field was done until at

             Finden Down,

     There was no one with the 'untsman save

             young Jeremiah Brown.

     And then the 'untsman 'e was beat. 'Is

             'orse 'ad tripped and fell.

     "By George," said Brown, "I'll go alone,

             and follow it to – well,

     The place that it belongs to."   And as 'e

             made the vow,

     There broke from right in front of 'im

             the queerest kind of row.

     There lay a copse of 'azels on the border