`` There 's a boat on the Wall , '' she says , `` but I ca n't push it down to the sea , nor sail it when 't is there . '' ' `` Lend us your sons , '' says all the Pharisees . `` Give 'em Leave an ' Good-will to sail it for us , Mother -- O Mother ! '' ' `` One 's dumb , an ' t ` other 's blind , '' she says . `` But all the dearer me for that ; and you 'll lose them in the big sea . '' The voices justabout pierced through her ; an ' there was children 's voices too . She stood out all she could , but she could n't rightly stand against that . So she says : `` If you can draw my sons for your job , I 'll not hinder 'em . You ca n't ask no more of a Mother . '' ` She saw them liddle green lights dance an ' cross till she was dizzy ; she heard them liddle feet patterin ' by the thousand ; she heard cruel Canterbury Bells ringing to Bulverhithe , an ' she heard the great Tide-wave ranging along the Wall . That was while the Pharisees was workin ' a Dream to wake her two sons asleep : an ' while she bit on her fingers she saw them two she 'd bore come out an ' pass her with never a word . She followed 'em , cryin ' pitiful , to the old boat on the Wall , an ' that they took an ' runned down to the sea . ` When they 'd stepped mast an ' sail the blind son speaks : `` Mother , we 're waitin ' your Leave an ' Good-will to take Them over . '' ' Tom Shoesmith threw back his head and half shut his eyes . ` Eh , me ! ' he said . ` She was a fine , valiant woman , the Widow Whitgift . She stood twistin ' the eends of her long hair over her fingers , an ' she shook like a poplar , makin ' up her mind . The Pharisees all about they hushed their children from cryin ' an ' they waited dumb-still . She was all their dependence .
` Thout her Leave an ' Good-will they could not pass ; for she was the XXXXX .
't Bulverhithe Mother Pharisees Wall Whitgift cryin eends patterin twistin