Georgian Poetry 1913-15 - LightNovelsOnl.com
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[Scene: A public-house kitchen. HUFF the Farmer and SOLLERS the Wainwright talking; another man, a stranger, sitting silent.]
Huff:
Ay, you may think we're well off--
Sollers:
Now for croaks, Old toad! who's trodden on you now?--Go on; But if you can, croak us a new tune.
Huff:
Ay, You think you're well off--and don't grab my words Before they're spoken--but some folks, I've heard, Pity us, living quiet in the valley.
Sollers:
Well, I suppose 'tis their affair.
Huff:
Is it?
But what I mean to say,--if they think small Of us that live in the valley, mayn't it show That we aren't all so happy as we think?
[MERRICK the Smith comes in.]
Merrick:
Quick, cider! I believe I've swallowed a coal.
Sollers:
Good evening. True, the heat's a wonder to-night.
[Smith draws himself cider.]
Huff:
Haven't you brought your flute? We've all got room For music in our minds to-night, I'll swear.
Working all day in the sun do seem to push The thought out of your brain.
Sollers:
O, 'tis the sun Has trodden on you? That's what makes you croak?
Ay, whistle him somewhat: put a tune in his brain; He'll else croak us out of pleasure with drinking.
Merrick:
'Tis quenching, I believe.--A tune? Too hot.
You want a fiddler.
Huff:
Nay, I want your flute.
I like a piping sound, not sc.r.a.ping o' guts.
Merrick:
This is no weather for a man to play Flutes or music at all that asks him spend His breath and spittle: you want both yourself These oven days. Wait till a fiddler comes.
Huff:
Who ever comes down here?
Sollers:
There's someone come.
[Pointing with his pipe to the stranger.]
Merrick:
Good evening, mister. Are you a man for tunes?
Stranger:
And if I was I'ld give you none to-night.
Merrick:
