BELL:
Ay: but not mine. What should a tinker’s trollop
Do in the house of Michael Barrasford,
But bring a blush to his children’s cheeks? God help them,
If they take after me, if they’ve a dash
Of Haggard blood--for ewe’s milk laced with brandy
Is like to curdle: or, happen, I should say,
God help their father!
MICHAEL:
Mother, why should you go?
Why should you want to travel the ditch-bottom,
When you’ve a hearth to sit by, snug and clean?
BELL:
The fatted calf’s to be killed for the prodigal mother?
You’ve not the hard heart of the young cockrobin
That’s got no use for parents, once he’s mated:
But I’m, somehow, out of place within four walls,
Tied to one spot--that never wander the world.
I long for the rumble of wheels beneath me; to hear
The clatter and creak of the lurching caravan;
And the daylong patter of raindrops on the roof:
Ay, and the gossip of nights about the campfire--
The give-and-take of tongues: mine’s getting stiff
For want of use, and spoiling for a fight.
MICHAEL:
Nay: still as nimble and nippy as a flea!
BELL:
But, I could talk, at one time! There are days
When the whole world’s hoddendoon and draggletailed,
Drooked through and through; and blury, gurly days
When the wind blows snell: but it’s something to be stirring,
And not shut up between four glowering walls,
Like blind white faces; and you never ken
What traveller your wayside fire will draw
Out of the night, to tell outlandish tales,
Or crack a jest, or start quarrel with you,
Till the words bite hot as ginger on the tongue.
Anger’s the stuff to loose a tongue grown rusty:
And keep it in good fettle for all chances.
I’m sick of dozing by a dumb hearthstone--
And the peat, with never a click or crackle in it--
Famished for news.
MICHAEL:
For scandal.
BELL:
There’s no scandal
For those who can’t be scandalized--just news:
All’s fish that comes to their net. I was made
For company.
MICHAEL:
And you’d go back again
To that tag-rag-and-bobtail? What’s the use
Of a man’s working to keep a decent home,
When his own mother tries to drag him down?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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