BlazesBoylan
Though she's a factory lass and wears no fancy clothes baraabum yet I've a sort of a Yorkshire relish for my little Yorkshire rose baraabum.
| BlazesBoylan My hands in my jacket pockets forget to salute but I offer to the ladies the bold admiration of my eyes and the red flower between my lips. |
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| BlazesBoylan I present to the leaders' skyblue frontlets and high action a skyblue tie, widebrimmed straw hat at a rakish angle and suit of indigo serge. |
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| BlazesBoylan By the provost's wall I come jauntily, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire girl. |
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| BlazesBoylan Outside la Maison Claire I waylay Jack Mooney's brother-in-law, humpy, tight, making for the liberties. |
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| BlazesBoylan @BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- May I say a word to your telephone, missy? I ask roguishly. |
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| BlazesBoylan I look in her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the red flower between my smiling teeth. |
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| BlazesBoylan @BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- This for me? I ask gallantly. |
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| BlazesBoylan Her slim fingers reckon the fruits. I look into the cut of her blouse. A young pullet. I take a red carnation from the tall stemglass. |
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| BlazesBoylan I rattle merry money in my trousers' pocket. @ BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- What's the damage? |
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| BlazesBoylan At the counter I write and push the docket to her. @ BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- Send it at once, will you? It's for an invalid. |
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| BlazesBoylan @BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- O, yes, Blazes Boylan said. Ten minutes. |
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| BlazesBoylan @BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- Can you send them by tram? Now? |
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| BlazesBoylan I turn suddenly from a chip of strawberries, draw a gold watch from my fob and hold it at its chain's length. |
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| BlazesBoylan I walk here and there in new tan shoes about the fruitsmelling shop, lifting fruits, young juicy plump red tomatoes, sniffing smells. |
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| BlazesBoylan @BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- That'll do, game ball. |
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| BlazesBoylan I hand her the bottle swathed in pink tissue paper and a small jar. @BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- Put these in first, will you? |
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| BlazesBoylan By the provost's wall I come jauntily, stepping in tan shoes and socks with skyblue clocks to the refrain of My girl's a Yorkshire girl. |
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| BlazesBoylan @ BLONDEINTHRNTNS -- May I say a word to your telephone, missy? I ask roguishly. |
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| BlazesBoylan I look in her blouse with more favour, the stalk of the red flower between my smiling teeth. |
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