After The Quarrel
By Adam Lindsay Gordon
Laurence Rabys Chamber. LAURENCE enters, a little the worse for liquor.
Laurence:
He never gave me a chance to speak,
And he calld her, worse than a dog,
The girl stood up with a crimson cheek,
And I felld him there like a log.
I can feel the blow on my knuckles yet,
He feels it more on his brow.
In a thousand years we shall all forget
The things that trouble us now.