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THE MOODS OF GINGER MICK

Ole Ginger's Rose! To see 'er sittin' there,
The moonlight shinin' fair into 'er face,
An' sort o' touchin' gentle on 'er 'air,
It made me fair fergit the time an' place.
I feels I'm peepin' where I never ought,
An' tries 'arf not to 'ear the words I caught.

One soljer's sweet'eart, that wus wot I seen:
One out o' thousands grievin' thro' the land.
A tart frum Spadger's or a weepin' queen—
Wot's there between 'em, when yeh understand?
She 'olds fer Mick, wiv all 'is ugly chiv,
The best a lovin' woman 'as to give.

The best a woman 'as to give—Aw, 'Struth!
When war, an' grief, an' trouble's on the land
Sometimes a bloke gits glimpses uv the truth
An' sweats 'is soul to try an' understand...
An' then the World, like some offishus John,
Shoves out a beefy 'and, an' moves 'im on.

So I seen Rose; an' so, on that same night
I seen a million women grievin' there.
Ole Mother Moon she showed to me a sight
She sees around the World, most everyw'ere.
Sneakin' beneath the shadder uv the wall
I seen, an' learned, an' understood it all.