EARLY DAYS
An’ sometimes, Oh! a letter.—Then, ’twas “Get the slush-lamp, quick!”
(’Twas a hollow’d raw potato, stuff’d with stocking round a stick,
An’ stuck, swamp’d with porpoise-oil, in a pannikin—
Smelt, Uncle used to say, worse than home-made sin);
An’ then we’d hush an’ settle down quiet round the hearth,
For to hear o’ green Kent country, an’ the old side of the Earth.
Uncle listen’d interested, Father with a frown;
Mother used to listen with her head bow’d down.
It was always full o’ stories; folks were wedded, buried, born;
There were animals, an’ railways, an’ “the cherries,” or “the corn.”
All our plays ’ud be for days what the news had been;—
An’ ’twas nice that people loved you that you hadn’t ever seen.
Well, an’ after that, came Supper—for us young ones, too; at least,
Mother’d let us have a taste, just to feel the feast.
An’ wasn’t she a picture! pouring, good an’ hot,
Tea (not [1]manuka-brew, but Tea!) from the pot.
- ↑ Manuka: (Mah-noo-kah): Here pronounced, as often by settlers, with the stress on the second syllable. A shrub with small aromatic tea-like leaves.
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