He 'gan a-gathering the spittoons,
His wife primmed lips and took the till.
Miss Bourne stood still and I stood still,
And 'Tick. Slow. Tick. Slow' went the clock.
She said, 'He waits until you knock.'
She turned at that and went out swift,
Si grinned and winked, his missus sniffed.
I heard her clang the Lion door,
I marked a drink-drop roll to floor;
It took up scraps of sawdust, furry,