The Nutty Blowen [Notes]
[By BON GAULTIER in Taits Edinburgh Magazine].
I
She wore a rouge like roses, the night when first we met,
Her lovely mug was smiling o’er mugs of heavy wet; [1]
Her red lips had the fullness, her voice the husky tone,
That told her drink was of a kind where water is unknown.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the bloom of borrowed flowers upon her cheek and brow.
II
A pair of iron darbies, when next we met, she wore, [2] The expression of her features was more thoughtful than before; And, standing by her side, was he who strove with might and main To soothe her leaving that dear land she ne’er might see again.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now, As she dropped the judge a curtsey, and he made her a bow.
III
And once again I see that brow no idle rouge is there,
The dubsman’s ruthless hand has cropped her once luxurious hair; [3]
She teases hemp in solitude, and there is no one near,
To press her hand within his own, and call for ginger-beer.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the card and heckle in her hand, a-teasing of that tow.
[1: face; porter] [2: handcuffs] [3: gaoler’s]