The Subs, the girls, and Flora stood, There in the pouring rain, And shouted hearty welcomes to The broken, lean-faced men. And when they'd passed, the little Subs Turned to their fun again.
But the biggest heart among them all Beat under the feathered hat;-- "Not me!" she cried, and up, and sped After the boys who had fought and bled,-- "Here's a game worth two o' that!"
She caught the cars, and in she flung Her wares with lavish hand. "_Narcissus!--vi'lets!_--here, you chaps! _Primroses! dafs!_--for your rumply caps! My! Ain't you black-an'-tanned! _Narcissus! vi'lets!_--all abloom,-- We're glad to see you back. _Primroses!--dafs!_ Thenk Gawd you laughs, If it's on'y crooked smiles. We're glad, my lads, to see you home, If your faces are like files."
They thanked her with their crooked smiles, Their bandaged hands they waved, Narcissus, vi'lets, prims, and daffs, They welcomed them with twisted laughs, Quite proper they behaved. And one said, "You're a Daisy, dear, And if you'd stop the 'bus We'd every one give you a kiss, And so say all of us. A Daisy, dear, that's what you are." And the rest,--"You are! You are!"
Then Flora swung her basket high, And tossed her feathered head; To the boys she gave one final wave, And to herself she said,-- "What kind of a silly old fool am I, Playin' the goat like that?-- Chuckin' of all my stock awye, And damaging me 'at? But them poor lads did look so thin, I couldn't ha' slept if I 'adn't a-bin An' gone an' done this foolish thing. An' it done them good, an' it done me good, So what's the odds if I does go lean, For a day or two, till the nibs comes in? A gell like me can always live, An' the bit I had I had to give. An' he called me a Daisy!--aw--'_Daisy dear!_' An' I--tell--you, it made me queer,-- With a lump in me throat and a swell right here. Fust time ever any one called me that, An', I swear, it's better'n a bran new hat."
I saw one hanging on a tree, And O his face was sad to see,-- _Misery, misery me_!
There were berries red upon his head, And in his hands, and on his feet, But when I tried to pick and eat, They were his blood, and he was dead;-- _Misery, misery me_!
It broke my heart to see him there, So lone and sad in his despair; The nails of woe were through his hands, And through his feet,--_ah, misery me_!