‘We knocks on the door, an’ we assists him in, an’ he staggers up tiv his missus, who was sittin’ iv her armchair knittin’, an’ tries ti gie her a bit chuck under the chin. “Ho—way——,” he stutters, “Lizzie, maa lass, an’ put us ti bed!” an’ stoopin’ down iv a staggerin’ way ti kiss her loses his balance, an’ flops doon unexpected on the floor. “Ye needn’t wait,” Lizzie says tiv us, haughty-like, takin’ no notice o’ Tom, an’ sae oot we gans, an’ leaves them. But we just stops a minute ootside ti hear Lizzie gie him his gruel; an’, wow! but she let him have it, an’ no mistake! “Thoo great flamin’ drunken lubbert!” says she, “comin’ home ti my hoos at this time o’ night, drunk as a lord, an’ only been married a week!” she cries. “Thoo mun just get used wiv it, maa lass,” says he solemnly from the floor; “for aa elwis gets drunk reg’lor on a pay-Friday; an’ it’sh maa hoos thoo ——, for aa’s maistor,” he says, thinkin’, mevvies, he mun assert hissel’ even if he has had his gills.
‘“Put thoo ti bed?” cries she. “Wey, I’ll not touch thoo, nor let thoo touch me nowther till thoo’s sober again, an’s begged maa pardon.”
‘“Pardon-sh?” says Tom, an’ laughs, fair amused by her impittence. “Wey, if maa legs wesn’t sae wambly the night, I’d larn thoo a lesson, thoo ——”
‘“Get up, an’ try, thoo sponge o’ beer,” she says, an’ snaps her fingers iv his face. “Get up, an’ try,” cries she again. “I daur thoo ti;” an’ she actually has the impittence ti stir him wiv her foot. Just fancy that! A yard an’ a half o’ petticoat, fair insultin’ upon a proper mountain ov a man like Tom! The door was a bit open, d’ye see, an’ my marrer an’ me could see them two comics quite plain.
‘Well, Tom, he thinks things is comin’ tiv a pretty pass if his missis is gannin’ ti clean her boots on him efter a week’s marryin’; so, much against his will, he pulls hissel’ tegither, an’ by the help o’ the bedpost gets on his feet.
‘“Wey,” cries Lizzie again, lookin’ him ower mair scornfu’ than ever, “thoo’s as unsteady on thy feet as a horse wi’ the staggers!” she says. “I could knock thoo doon wi’ one finger!”
‘“I bet-sh a sovereign thoo cannet; ay, an’ anither that I’ll drive yo’r lugs reet intiv yo’r heid wi’ one bat o’ my fist,” says he; an’ he puffs hissel’ oot as he searches for the coin, an’ spits on his hands iv a preliminary sort o’ way.
‘Then, sudden, she comes up tiv him, gies him a tap wiv her forefinger, unexpected like, straight on the breast, an’ Tom, taken unawares, lurches backward, catches his foot iv a bracket, crashes intiv a chair, an’ falls wiv a tarr’ble thump an’ a racket of furniture straight on ti the flaggin’. He gies a little lift ov his head as he looks up in a dazed way for a moment from the floor. Then he says, sinkin’ back again, “There’s been a fall o’ stone; gan an’ fetch the depity,” he says, then sort o’ dwams (swoons) awa.
‘Lizzie, she looks him ower for awhile, cool as a policeman wiv a lantern, then lifts a pillow off the bed, an’ puts it under his head as he lies stretched upon the floor. Next, she takes the boots off her man, an’ sae leaves him ti bide where he lies, whilst she gans ti bed her lane.
‘Next mornin’ Tom feels hissel’ as sick as a bad bat o’ the head an’ a wambly stomach can make a man, an’ “lies in” while his missus gies him warm things ti drink, an’ tends him like a bairn.