The pithead lowers black
Against the rainy grey,
As down the cinder-track
They take their happy way—

He, cracking all the while
Of his white whippet, Nell:
She, listening with a smile
To all he has to tell.

Happy to hear him talk,
As he, to have her by,
Light-heartedly they walk
Beneath the heavy sky.

For them no turning back,
Though not a word they say
Of love, as down the track
They take their happy way.