diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:55:47 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:55:47 -0700 |
| commit | 398c9c4495bbb25ffd3af9204821d864ab0bfa10 (patch) | |
| tree | f8ee7178379533653d4cea135d2793be432f6435 | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19470.txt | 15098 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 19470.zip | bin | 0 -> 184486 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
5 files changed, 15114 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19470.txt b/19470.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..730f406 --- /dev/null +++ b/19470.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15098 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Yorkshire Lyrics, by John Hartley + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Yorkshire Lyrics + Poems written in the Dialect as Spoken in the West Riding + of Yorkshire. To which are added a Selection of Fugitive + Verses not in the Dialect + +Author: John Hartley + +Release Date: October 5, 2006 [EBook #19470] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YORKSHIRE LYRICS *** + + + + +Produced by Alison Bush + + + + + Yorkshire Lyrics. + +Poems written in the dialect as spoken in the West Riding of Yorkshire. + To which are added a selection of Fugitive Verses not in the dialect. + By John Hartley, + + + + + Author of "Clock Almanack," "Yorkshire Puddin," + "Yorkshire Tales" &c, &c, + + + + + "It has not been my lot to pore + O'er ancient tomes of Classic lore, + Or quaff Castalia's springs; + Yet sometimes the observant eye + May germs of poetry descry + In plain and common things." + + + + + London: W. Nicholson & Sons, Limited, 26, Paternoster Square, E. C. + and Albion Works, Wakefield. + + + + + Dedication. + To my dear daughter, Annie Sophie, + this collection of dialect verses is dedicated, + as a token of sincere love. + John Hartley. Christmas, 1898. + + + + +Contents. + +Mi Darling Muse. +To a Daisy, Found blooming March 7th. +Mi Bonny Yorksher Lass. +Give it 'em Hot. +A Tale for th' Childer, on Christmas Eve. +Words ov Kindness. +A Brussen Bubble. +Th' Little Stranger. +Th' Traitle Sop. +Once agean Welcome. +Still true to Nell. +Bide thi Time. +A Cold Dooas. +A Jolly Beggar. +Aw Wodn't for all aw Could See. +Come thi Ways! +What is it? +Awst Nivver be Jaylus. +Lamentin' an Repentin'. +Bite Bigger. +Second Thowts. +A Neet when aw've Nowt to do. +Ther's much Expected. +Coortin Days. +Sweet Mistress Moore. +Waivin Mewsic. +Jimmy's Choice. +Old Moorcock. +Th' Short-Timer. +Sol an' Doll. +Their Fred. +Love an' Labor. +Nooan so Bad. +Th' Honest Hard Worker. +Peevish Poll. +The Old Bachelor's Story. +Did yo Ivver! +A Quiet Tawk. +Lines, on Startling a Rabbit. +Nivver Heed. +Gronfayther's Days. +Awr Dooad. +Whear Natur Missed it. +That's All. +Mary Hanner's Peanner. +Grondad's Lullaby. +Sixty, Turned, To-day. +That Lad Next Door. +A Summer Shaar. +Awr Lad. +Bonny Mary Ann. +That Christmas Puddin. +A Bad Sooart. +Fairly Weel-off. +A Warnin. +To W. F. Wallett. The Queen's Jester. +Lads an Lasses. +A New Year's Gift. +Matty's Reason. +Uncle Ben. +A Hawporth. +Th' Better Part. +Th' Lesser Evil. +Take Heart! +They all do it. +To Let. +Lost Love. (appeared twice in the paper book) +Drink. +Duffin Johnny. (A Rifleman's Adventure.) +Plenty o' Brass. +The New Year's Resolve. +A Strange Stooary. +What Wor it? +Billy Bumble's Bargain. +Aght o' Wark. +That's a Fact. +Babby Burds. +Queen ov Skircoit Green. +Th' Little Black Hand. +My Native Twang. +Sing On. +Shoo's thi Sister. +Another Babby. +To a Roadside Flower. +An Old Man's Christmas Morning. +Settin Off. +To th' Swallow. +A Wife. +Heart Brokken. +Lines, on finding a butterfly in a weaving shed. +Rejected. +Persevere. +A Pointer. +An Acrostic. +Help Thisen. +Bless 'em! +Act Square. +His Dowter Gate Wed. +All We Had. +Th' First o'th Sooart. +Poor Old Hat. +Done Agean. +What it is to be a Mother. +What they say. +Young Jockey. +Missed his Mark. +When Lost. +Mak a Gooid Start. +Stop at Hooam. +Advice to Jenny. +Jockey an Dolly. +Dooant Forget the Old Fowks. +Soa Bonny. +The Linnet. +Mary Jane. +Aw Dooant Care. +My Lass. +A Gooid Kursmiss Day. +Mi Love's Come Back. +A Wife. +All Tawk. +Aw Can't Tell. +Happen Thine. +Contrasts. +To Mally. +Th' State o' th' Poll. A nop tickle illusion. +Try a Smile. +Growin Old. +Gooid Bye, Old Lad. +That Drabbled Brat. +Song for th' Hard Times, (1879.) +Stir thi Lass! +Tother Day. +Happy Sam's Song. +Gradely Weel off. +Is it Reight? +A Yorksher Bite. +Lily's Gooan. +What aw Want. +Latter Wit. +A Millionaire. +Mi Fayther's Pipe. +Let th' Lasses Alooan! +A Breet Prospect. +Missin Yor Way. +Heather Bells. +A Lucky Dog. +My Doctrine. +That Lass. +Mi Old Umberel +What it Comes to. +Hold up yer Heeads. +A Quiet Day. +Lass o'th Haley Hill. +Ditherum Dump. +My Polly. +Love one Another. +Dick an Me. +Briggate at Setterdy Neet. +Awr Annie. +Peter Prime's Principles. +Cuckoo! +Fowk Next Door. +Dad's Lad. +Willie's Weddin. +Somdy's Chonce. +To a True Friend. +Warmin Pan. +It may be Soa. +A Safe Investment. +Red Stockin. +Plain Jane. +Cash V. Cupid. +Mary's Bonnet. +Prime October. +Old Dave to th' New Parson. +Tom Grit. +Th' Demon o' Debt. +Th' Lad 'at Loves his Mother. +Matilda Jane. +Modest Jack o' Wibsey Slack. +Work Lads! +Bonny Yorksher. +Sixty an Sixteen. +Come thi Ways in. +Horton Tide. +Mi Old Slippers. +A Friend to Me. +A Pair o' Black Een. +A Screw Lawse. +A Sad Mishap. +If. +A True Tale. +Peter's Prayer. +Mak th' Best Ont. +On Strike. +Be Happy. +Its True. +Natty Nancy. +Fugitive poems. +Angels of Sunderland. In Memoriam, June 16th, 1893. +Trusting Still. +Shiver the Goblet. +Little Sunshine. +Passing Events. +Those Days have Gone. +I'd a Dream. +To my Harp. +Backward Turn, Oh! Recollection. +Alice. +Looking Back. +I Know I Love Thee +Bachelors Quest. +Waiting at the Gate. +Love. +Do your Best and Leave the Rest. +To my Daughter on her Birthday. +Remorse. +My Queen +Now and Then. +The Open Gates. +Blue Bells. +A Song of the Snow +Hide not thy Face. +In my Garden of Roses. +The Match Girl. +De Profundis. +Nettie. +The Dean's Brother. +I Would not Live Alway. +Too Late. +On the Banks of the Calder. +Lines on Receiving a Bunch of Wild Hyacinths by Post. +November's Here. +Mary. +When Cora Died. +The Violet. +Repentant. +Sunset. +Poetry and Prose. +Years Ago. +Somebody's. +Claude. +All on a Christmas Morning. +Once Upon a Time. +Nearing Home. +Those Tiny Fingers. +Lilly-White Hand. +Shut Out. +Charming May. +Who Cares? + + + + +Mi Darling Muse. + + +Mi darlin' Muse, aw coax and pet her, +To pleeas yo, for aw like nowt better; +An' if aw find aw connot get her + To lend her aid, +Into foorced measure then aw set her, + The stupid jade! + +An' if mi lines dooant run as spreetly, +Nor beam wi gems o' wit soa breetly, +Place all the blame,--yo'll place it reightly, + Upon her back; +To win her smile aw follow neetly, + Along her track. + +Maybe shoo thinks to stop mi folly, +An let me taste o' melancholy; +But just to spite her awl be jolly, + An say mi say; +Awl fire away another volley + Tho' shoo says "Nay." + +We've had some happy times together, +For monny years we've stretched our tether, +An as aw dunnot care a feather + For fowk 'at grummel, +We'll have another try. Aye! whether + We stand or tummel. + +Sometimes th' reward for all us trubble, +Has been a crop o' scrunty stubble, +But th' harvest someday may be double, + At least we'll trust it; +An them 'at say it's but a bubble, + We'll leeav to brust it. + + + +To a Daisy, Found blooming March 7th. + + +A'a awm feeared tha's come too sooin, + Little daisy! +Pray, whativer wor ta doin? + Are ta crazy? +Winter winds are blowin' yet,-- +Tha'll be starved, mi little pet. + +Did a gleam o' sunshine warm thee, + An' deceive thee? +Niver let appearance charm thee, + For believe me, +Smiles tha'll find are oft but snares, +Laid to catch thee unawares. + +Still aw think it luks a shame, + To tawk sich stuff; +Aw've lost faith, an' tha'll do th' same, + Hi, sooin enuff. +If tha'rt happy as tha art +Trustin' must be th' wisest part. + +Come, aw'll pile some bits o' stooan, + Raand thi dwellin'; +They may screen thee when aw've gooanm, + Ther's no tellin'; +An' when gentle spring draws near +Aw'll release thee, niver fear. + +An' if then thi pretty face, + Greets me smilin'; +Aw may come an' sit bith' place, + Time beguilin'; +Glad to think aw'd paar to be, +Of some use, if but to thee. + + + +Mi Bonny Yorksher Lass. + + +Aw've travelled East, West, North, an South, + An led a rooamin' life; +Aw've met wi things ov stirlin' worth, + Aw've shared wi joy an strife; +Aw've kept a gooid stiff upper lip, + Whativver's come to pass: +But th' captain of mi Fortun's ship, + Has been mi Yorksher Lass. + +Storm-tossed, sails rent, an reckonin' lost, + A toy for wind an wave; +Mid blindin' fog an snow an frost, + Aw've thowt noa power could save; +But ivver in the darkest day, + Wi muscles strong as brass, +To some safe port shoo's led the way,-- + Mi honest Yorksher Lass. + +Shoo's fair,--all Yorksher lasses are,-- + Shoo's bonny as the rest, +Her brow ne'er shows a line o' care, + Shoo thinks what is, is best. +Shoo's lovin', true, an full o' pluck, + An it seems as clear as glass, +'At th' lad is sewer to meet gooid luck + 'At weds a Yorksher Lass. + +Ther's oriental beauties, an' + Grand fowk ov ivvery grade, +But when it comes to honest worth, + Shoo puts 'em all ith' shade, +For wi her charms an virtues, + Shoo stands at top o'th' class; +Ther's nooan soa rare as can compare, + Wi a bonny Yorksher Lass, + +Then here's to th' Yorksher lasses! + Whearivver they may be; +Ther worth ther's nooan surpasses, + An ther's nooan as brave an free! +If awd to live life o'er ageean, + Awd think misen an ass, +If aw didn't tak for company, + A bonny Yorksher lass. + + + +Give it 'em Hot. + + +Give it 'em hot, an be hanged to ther feelins! + Souls may be lost wol yor choosin' yor words! +Out wi' them doctrines 'at taich o' fair dealins! + Daan wi' a vice tho' it may be a lord's! +What does it matter if truth be unpleasant? + Are we to lie a man's pride to exalt! +Why should a prince be excused, when a peasant + Is bullied an' blamed for a mich smaller fault? + +O, ther's too mich o' that sneakin and bendin; + An honest man still should be fearless and bold; +But at this day fowk seem to be feeared ov offendin, + An' they'll bow to a cauf if it's nobbut o' gold. +Give me a crust tho' it's dry, an' a hard 'en, + If aw know it's my own aw can ait it wi' glee; +Aw'd rayther bith hauf work all th' day for a farden, + Nor haddle a fortun wi' bendin' mi knee. + +Let ivery man by his merit be tested, + Net by his pocket or th' clooas on his back; +Let hypocrites all o' ther clooaks be divested, + An' what they're entitled to, that let em tak. +Give it 'em hot! but remember when praichin, + All yo 'at profess others failins to tell, +'At yo'll do far moor gooid wi' yor tawkin an' taichin, + If yo set an example, an' improve yorsel. + + + +A Tale for th' Childer, on Christmas Eve. + + +Little childer,--little childer; + Harken to an old man's ditty; +Tho yo live ith' country village,-- + Tho yo live ith' busy city. +Aw've a little tale to tell yo,-- + One 'at ne'er grows stale wi' tellin,-- +It's abaat One who to save yo, + Here amang men made His dwellin. +Riches moor nor yo can fancy,-- + Moor nor all this world has in it,-- +He gave up becoss He loved yo, + An He's lovin yo this minnit. +All His power, pomp and glory, + Which to think on must bewilder,-- +All He left,--an what for think yo? + Just for love ov little childer. +In a common, lowly stable + He wor laid, an th' stars wor twinklin, +As if angel's 'een wor peepin + On His face 'at th' dew wor sprinklin. +An one star, like a big lantern, + Shepherds who ther flocks wor keepin, +Saw, an foller'd till it rested + Just aboon whear He wor sleepin. +Then strange music an sweet voices + Seem'd to sing reight aght o' Heaven, +"Unto us a child is born! + Unto us a son is given!" +Then coom wise men thro strange nations,-- + Young men an men old an hoary,-- +An they all knelt daan befoor Him, + An araand Him shone a glory. +Then a King thowt he wod kill Him, + Tho he reckoned net to mind Him, +But they went to a strange country, + Whear this bad King couldn't find Him. +An He grew up strong and sturdy, + An He sooin began His praichin, +An big craads stood raand to listen, + An they wondered at His taichin. +Then some sed bad things abaat Him, + Called Him names, laft at an jeered Him;-- +Sed He wor a base imposter, + For they hated, yet they feeard Him. +Some believed in His glad tidins,-- + Saw Him cure men ov ther blindness,-- +Saw Him make once-deead fowk livin, + Saw Him full o' love an kindness. +Wicked men at last waylaid Him, + Drag'd Him off to jail and tried Him, +Tho noa fault they could find in Him, + Yet they cursed an crucified Him. +Nubdy knows ha mich He suffered; + But His work on earth wor ended:-- +From the grave whear they had laid Him, + Into Heaven He ascended. +Love like His may well bewilder,-- + Sinners weel may bow befoor Him;-- +Nah He waits for th' little childer, + Up in Heaven whear saints adore Him. +Think when sittin raand yor hearthstun, + An the Kursmiss bells are ringing, +Ha He lived an died at yo may + Join those angels in ther singin. + + + +Words ov Kindness. + + +'Tis strange 'at fowk will be sich fooils + To mak life net worth livin', +Fermentin' rows, creatin' mooils, + Detractin' an' deceivin'. +To fratch an' worry day an' neet, + Is sewerly wilful blindness, +When weel we know ther's nowt as sweet, + As a few words spoke i' kindness. + +Ther is noa heart withaat its grief, + The gayest have some sadness; +But oft a kind word brings relief, + An' sheds a ray ov gladness. +We ought to think of others moor, + Nor ov ther pains be mindless; +We may bring joy to monny a door + Wi' a few words spoke i' kindness. + +A peevish spaik, a bitin' jest, + 'At may be thowtless spokken, +May be like keen edged dagger prest + Throo some heart nearly brokken. +Then let love be awr rule o' life, + This world's cares we shall find less; +For nowt can put an end to strife, + Like a few words spoke i' kindness. + + + +A Brussen Bubble. + + +Bet wor a stirrin, strappin lass, + Shoo lived near Woodus Moor;-- +An varry keen shoo wor for brass, + Tho little wor her stoor. +Shoo'd wed for love--and as luck let, + It proved a lucky hit; +A finer chap yo've seldom met, + Or one wi better wit. + +His name awm net inclined to tell, + But he'd been kursend John; +An he wor rayther praad hissel, + An anxious to get on. +At neet they'd sit an tawk, an plan, + Some way to mend ther state; +"What one chap's done another can," + Sed Bet, "let's get agate." + +"This morn wol darnin socks for thee + This thowt coom i' mi nop, +An do't we will if tha'll agree;-- + Let's start a little shop. +We'll sell all sooarts o' useful things + 'At ivverybody needs; +Like scaarin-stooan, an tape an pins, + An buttons, sooap, an threeds. + +An spice for th' childer,--castor oil, + An traitle drink, an pies, +An kinlin wood, an maybe coil, + Fresh yeast an hooks an eyes. +Corn plaisters, Bristol brick, an clay, + Puttates, rewbub an salt; +An if that can't be made to pay, + It willn't be my fault." + +"Th' idea's a gooid en," John replied, + "We should ha done 't befoor; +Aw raillee think at if its tried, + We'st neer luk back noa moor. +But whear's th' stock commin throo, mi lass? + That's moor nor aw can tell; +Fowk willn't come an spend ther brass, + Unless yo've stuff to sell." + +"Why, wodn't th' maister lend a hand? + Tha knows he's fond o' me; +A five paand nooat wod do it grand-- + Awd ax if aw wor thee." +An John did ax, an strange to say + He gat it thear an then; +An Bet wor ne'er i' sich a way-- + Fairly besides hersen. + +Soa th' haase wor turned into a shop, + An praad they wor,--an Bet +Sed to hersen--"It luks tip top, + Aw'st be a lady yet." +An th' naybors coom throo far an near, + To buy a thing or two, +What they'd paid tuppence for,--why, here + Bet made three awpence do. + +When John coom home at neet, his wife + Wor soa uncommon thrang, +At th' furst time in his wedded life, + His drinkin time coom wrang. +He did his best to seem content, + Till shuttin up time coom; +"Why, lass, he said, "thar't fairly spent, + Tha's oppen'd wi a boom." + +An ivvery day, to th' end o'th' wick + Browt customers enuff; +But th' stock wor lukkin varry sick, + For shoo'd sell'd all her stuff. +But then, shoo'd bowt a new silk gaon, + An John a silk top hat, +An th' nicest easy chair ith' taan, + An bits o' this an that. + +An th' upshot wor, shoo'd spent all th' brass, + An shoo'd nowt left to sell; +An what John sed,--aw'll let that pass + For 'tisn't fit to tell. +Soa th' business brust, but Bet declares, + 'Twor nobbut want o' thowt, +For shoo'd sooin ha made a fortun, + If th' stock had cost 'em nowt. + + + +Th' Little Stranger. + + +Little bonny, bonny babby! +How tha stares, an' weel tha may, +For its but an haar or hardly +Sin' tha furst saw th' leet o' day. + +A'a tha little knows, young moppet, +Ha awst have to tew for thee; +But may be when forced to drop it, +'At tha'll do a bit for me. + +Are ta maddled mun amang it? +Does ta wonder what aw mean? +Aw should think tha does, but dang it, +Where's ta been to leearn to scream? + +That's noa sooart o' mewsic, bless thi, +Dunnot peawt thi lip like that; +Mun, aw hardly dar to nurse thi, +Feared awst hurt thi, little brat. + +Come, aw'll tak thi to thi mother, +Shoo's more used to sich nor me, +Hands like mine worn't made to bother +Wi sich ginger-breead as thee. + +Innocent an' helpless craytur, +All soa pure an' undefiled, +If ther's ought belangs to heaven, +Lives o'th' earth, it is a child. + +An' its hard to think 'at someday, +If tha'rt spared to weather throo, +'At tha'll be a man, an' someway +Have to feight life's battles too. + +Kings an' Queens, an' lords an' ladies, +Once wor nowt noa moor to see, +An' th' warst wretch at hung o'th' gallows, +Once wor born as pure as thee. + +An' what tha at last may come to, +God aboon us all can tell; +But aw hope 'at tha'll be lucky, +Even tho aw fail mysel. + +Do aw ooin thi? its a pity, +Hush! nah prathi dunnot freat; +Goa an' snoozle to thi titty, +Tha'rt too young for trouble yet. + + + +Th' Traitle Sop. + + +Once in a little country taan + A grocer kept a shop, +And sell'd amang his other things, + Prime traitle-drink and pop; + +Teah, coffee, currans, spenish juice, + Soft soap an' paader blue, +Presarves an' pickles, cinnamon, + Allspice an' pepper too. + +An' hoasts o' other sooarts o' stuff + To sell to sich as came, +As figs, an' raisens, salt an' spice, + Too numerous to name. + +One summer's day a waggon stood + Just opposite his door; +An' th' childer all gaped raand as if + They'd ne'er seen one afoor. + +An' in it wor a traitle cask, + It wor a wopper too, +To get it aght they all wor fast + Which iver way to do. + +But wol they stood an' parley'd thear, + Th' horse gave a sudden chuck, +An' aght it flew, an' bursting threw + All th' traitle into th' muck. + +Then th' childer laff'd an' clapp'd their hands, + To them it seem'd rare fun; +But th' grocer ommost lost his wits + When he saw th' traitle run. + +He stamp'd an' raved, an' then declared + He wodn't pay a meg! +An' th' carter vow'd until he did + He wodn't stir a peg. + +He said he'd done his business reight,-- + He'd brought it up to th' door, +An' thear it wor, an' noa fair chap + Wod want him to do moor. + +But wol they stamped, an' raved, an' swore, + An' vented aght ther spleen, +Th' childer wor thrang enough, you're sure, + All plaisterd up to th' een. + +A neighbor chap saw th' state o' things, + An' pitied ther distress, +An' begg'd em not to be soa sour + Abaht soa sweet a mess; + +"An' tha'd be sour," th' owd grocer sed, + "If th' job wor thine owd lad, +An' somdy wanted thee to pay + For what tha'd niver had." + +"Th' fault isn't mine," said th' cart driver, + "My duty's done I hope? +I've brought him traitle, thear it is, + An' he mun sam it up." + +Soa th' neighbor left em to thersen, + He'd nowt noa moor to say, +But went to guard what ther wor left, + An' send th' young brood away. + +This didn't suit th' young lads a bit,-- + They didn't mean to stop, +They felt detarmin'd that they'd get + Another traitle sop. + +They tried all ways but th' chap stood firm, + They couldn't get a lick, +An' some o'th' boldest gate a taste + O'th neighbor's walkin stick. + +At last one said, "I know a plan + If we can scheme to do it, +We'll knock one daan bang into th' dolt, + An' let him roll reight throo it;" + +"Agreed! agreed!" they all replied, + "An here comes little Jack, +He's foorced to pass cloise up this side, + We'll do it in a crack." + +Poor Jack wor rayther short, an' came + Just like a suckin duck; +He little dream'd at th' sweets o' life + Wod ivver be his luck. + +But daan they shoved him, an' he roll'd + Heead first bang into th' mess, +An' aght he coom a woeful seet, + As yo may easy guess. + +They marched him off i' famous glee, + All stickified an' clammy, +Then licked him clean an' sent him hooam + To get lick'd by his mammy. + +Then th' cartdriver an th' grocer came, + Booath in a dreadful flutter, +To save some, but they came too lat, + It all wor lost ith gutter: + +It towt a lesson to em booath + Befoor that job wor ended, +To try (at stead o' falling aght) + If owt went wrang to mend it. + +For wol fowk rave abaht ther loss, + Some sharper's sure to pop, +An' aght o' ther misfortunes + They'll contrive to get a sop. + + + +Once agean Welcome. + + +Once agean welcome! oh, what is ther grander, +When years have rolled by sin' yo left an old friend? +An what cheers yor heart, when yo far away wander, +As mich as the thowts ov a welcome at th' end? +Yo may goa an be lucky, an win lots o' riches; +Yo may gain fresh acquaintance as onward yo rooam; +But tho' wealth may be temptin, an honor bewitches, +Yet they're nowt when compared to a welcome back hooam. + +Pray, who hasn't felt as they've sat sad an lonely, +They'd give all they possessed for the wings ov a dove, +To fly far away, just to catch a seet only +Ov th' friends o' ther childhood, the friends 'at they love. +Hope may fill the breast when some old spot we're leavin, +Bright prospects may lure us throo th' dear land away, +But it's joy o' returnin at sets one's breast heavin, +It's th' hopes ov a welcome back maks us feel gay. + +Long miles yo may trudge ovver moor, heath, or mire, +Till yor legs seem to totter, an th' stummack feels faint; +But yor thowts still will dwell o' that breet cottage fire, +Till yo feel quite refreshed bi th' fancies yo paint. +An when yo draw nearer, an ovver th' old palins +Yo see smilin faces 'at welcome yo back, +Ther's an end to being weary! away wi complainin's! +Yo leeave all yor troubles behind on yor track. + +Then if ther's sich joy in a welcome receivin, +Let us ivvery one try sich a pleasure to gain; +An bi soothin' fowk's cares, an ther sorrows relievin, +Let us bind em all to us, wi' friendship's strong chain. +Let us love an be loved! let's be kind an forgivin, +An then if fate forces us far from awr hooam, +We shall still throughout life have the joy o' receivin +A tear when we part, an a smile when we come. + + + +Still true to Nell. + + +Th' sun wor settin,--red an gold, + Wi splendor paintin th' west, +An purplin tints throo th' valley roll'd, + As daan he sank to rest. +Yet dayleet lingered looath to leeav + A world soa sweet an fair, +Wol silent burds a pathway cleave, + Throo th' still an slumb'rin air. + +Aw stroll'd along a country rooad, + Hedged in wi thorn an vine; +Which wild flower scents an shadows broad, + Converted to a shrine. +As twileet's deeper curtains fell + Aw sat mi daan an sighed; +Mi thowts went back to th' time when Nell, + Had rambled bi mi side. + +Aw seemed to hear her voice agean, + Soft whisperin i' mi ear, +Recallin things 'at once had been, + When th' futur all wor clear. +When love,--pure, honest, youthful love + Had left us nowt to crave; +An fancies full ov bliss we wove;-- + Alas! Nell's in her grave. + +Oh, Nell! I' that fair hooam ov thine, + Whear all is breet an pure,--- +Say,--is ther room for love like mine? + Can earthborn love endure? +Do angels' hearts past vows renew, + To mortals here who dwell? +It must be soa;--if my heart's true, + Aw cannot daat thee, Nell. + +It's weel we cannot see beyond + That curtain Deeath lets fall; +Lest cheerin hooaps, an longins fond, + Should be denied us all. +Better to live i' hooap nor fear,-- + 'Tis Mercy plan'd it soa; +For if my Nelly isn't thear, + Aw shouldn't care to goa. + + + +Bide thi Time. + + +Bide thi time! it's sure to come, + Tho' it may seem tardy,-- +Thine's a better fate nor some: +If tha's but a humble home, + Yet thart strong an hardy; +Then cheer up an ne'er repine, +Be content, an bide thi time. + +Bide thi time! if fortun's blind, + Rail not at her givin; +If tha thinks shoo's ovver kind +To thi neighbor, nivver mind, + If tha gets a livin; +Woll thi life is in its prime, +Be content, an bide thi time. + +Bide thi time! for ther's a endin + To a loin, haivver long: +Things at th' warst mun start o' mendin; +Ther's noa wind but what's befriendin + One or other, tho' its strong: +Remember, poverty's noa crime-- +Be content, an bide thi time. + +Bide thi time! tho none are near thee + To stretch out a helpin hand; +Let noa darken'd prospect fear thee, +Ther's a promise yet should cheer thee + As tha nears a breeter land: +Tho thi rooad is hard to climb, +Be content, an bide thi time. + +Bide thi time! "I will not leave thee + Nor forsake thee," He hath said. +Let not worldly smiles deceive thee, +Trust in Him--He will relieve thee-- + He that gives thy daily bread: +Fill'd with faith and love sublime, +Still contented, bide thi time. + + + +A Cold Dooas. + + +One neet aw went hooam, what time aw can't tell, +But it must ha been lat, for awd th' street to mysel. +Furst one clock, then t'other, kept ringin aght chimes, +Aw wor gaumless, a chap will get gaumless sometimes. +Thinks aw--tha'll drop in for't to-neet lad, tha will! +But aw oppen'd th' haase door an aw heeard all wor still; +Soa aw ventured o' tip toe to creep up to bed, +Thinkin th' less aw disturbed her an th' less wod be sed. +When awd just getten ready to bob under th' clooas, +Aw bethowt me aw hadn't barred th' gate an lockt th' doors; +Soa daan stairs aw crept ommost holdin mi breeath, +An ivverything raand mi wor silent as deeath. +When aw stept aght oth door summat must ha been wrang, +For it shut ov itsen wi a terrible bang; +It wor lucky aw cleared it withaat gettin hurt, +But still, aw wor lockt aght o' door i' mi shirt. +Thinks aw its noa use to be feared ov a din, +Awst be foorced to rouse Betty to let me get in. +An to mend matters snow wor beginnin to fall, +An a linen shirt makes but a poor overall. +Aw knockt at first pratly, for fear ov a row, +But her snooarin aw heeard plain enuff daan below. +Mi flesh wor i' gooise-lumps, mi feet wor like ice, +To be frozzen to deeath, thinks aw, willn't be nice; +Soa as knockin wor useless aw started to bray, +Till at last one oth pannels began to give way. +All th' neighbors ther heeads aght oth windows did pop, +But aw couldn't wake Betty, shoo slept like a top. +At last a poleeceman coom raand wi his lamp, +An he spied mi an thowt mi some murderin scamp; +Aw tried to explain, but he wodn't give heed, +For he wanted a job like all th' rest ov his breed. +He tuk me to th' lock-up, an thear made a charge, +At aw wor a lunatic rooamin at large. +In a cell aw wor put, whear aw fan other three, +'Twor a small _cell_ for four, but a big _sell_ for me; +An shiv'rin an shudd'rin an pairt druffen sick, +That neet seem'd to me twice as long as a wick. +Next mornin they dragg'd me to th' cooart-haase to tell +What it meant, an to give an accaant o' misel; +An they fined me five shillin, but ha could aw pay, +When mi brass wor ith pockets oth clooas far away? +Then they sent Betty word, an shoo coom, for it seems +Shoo wor up i' gooid time, for shoo'd had ugly dreeams; +An shoo browt me mi clooas, an shoo set me all streight, +But her pity wor nobbut, "It just sarves thee reight." +Sin then yo've noa nooation what awve to endure, +For aw gate sich a cold 'at noa phisic can cure; +An if aw complain Betty says i' quicksticks, +"Tha sees what tha gets wi thi wrang-headed tricks." +Soa aw grin an aw bide it as weel as aw can, +But awve altered mi tactics, an nah it's mi plan +If mi mates ivver tempt me an get me to rooam, +Aw sup pop when awm aght an sup whisky at hooam. +An Betty declares it's been all for mi gooid, +For awd long wanted summat to cooil mi young blooid; +But this lesson it towt me awl freely confess,-- +To mak sewer th' gate's made fast befoor aw undress. + + + +A Jolly Beggar. + + +Aw'm as rich as a Jew, tho aw havn't a meg, +But awm free as a burd, an aw shak a loise leg; +Aw've noa haase, an noa barns, soa aw nivver pay rent, +But still aw feel rich, for awm bless'd wi content, + Aw live, an awm jolly, + An if it is folly, +Let others be wise, but aw'l follow mi bent. + +Mi kitchen aw find amang th' rocks up oth moor, +An at neet under th' edge ov a haystack aw snoor, +An a wide spreeadin branch keeps th' cold rain off mi nop, +Wol aw listen to th' stormcock at pipes up oth top; + Aw live, an awm jolly, &c. + +Aw nivver fear thieves, for aw've nowt they can tak, +Unless it's thease tatters at hing o' mi back; +An if they prig them, they'll get suck'd do yo see, +They'll be noa use to them, for they're little to me. + Aw live, an awm jolly, &c. + +Fowk may turn up ther nooas as they pass me ith rooad +An get aght oth gate as if fear'd ov a tooad; +But aw laff i' mi sleeve, like a snail in its shell, +For th' less room they tak up, ther's all th' moor for misel. + Aw live, an awm jolly, &c. + +Tho philosiphers tawk, an church parsons may praich, +An tell us true joy is far aght ov us raich; +Yet aw nivver tak heed o' ther cant o' ther noise, +For he's nowt to be fear'd on at's nowt he can loise. + Aw live, an awm jolly, &c. + + + +Aw Wodn't for all aw Could See. + + +Why the dickens do some fowk keep thrustin, + As if th' world hadn't raam for us all? +Wi consarn an consait they're fair brustin, + One ud think th' heavens likely to fall. +They fidge an they fume an they flutter, + Like a burd catched wi lime on a tree, +And they'll fratch wi ther own breead an butter:-- + But aw wodn't for all aw could see. + +Bless mi life! th' world could get on withaat em! + It ud have to do if they wor deead; +They may be sincere but aw daat em, + If they're honest, they're wrang i' ther heead. +They've all some pet doctrine, an wonder + Why fowk wi ther plans disagree, +They expect yo should all knuckle under, + But aw wodn't for all aw could see. + +My old woman may net be perfection, + But we're wed soa we know we've to stick; +An if shoo made another selection, + Aw mightn't be th' chap at shoo'd pick. +But we get on reight gradely together, + An her failins aw try net to see, +Some will bend under th' weight ov a feather, + But aw wodn't for all aw could see. + +A chap at aits peaches and cherries, + Mun expect to be bothered wi stooans; +An he's nobbut a fooil if he worries + Coss yearins arnt made withaat booans. +To mak th' best o' things just as aw find em, + Seems th' reight sooart o' wisdom to me; +An when things isn't reight aw neer mind em, + For aw wodn't for all aw could see. + +All araand me aw see ther's moor pleasure + Nor aw can enjoy wol aw live; +An contentment is this world's best treasure, + Then why should aw sit daan an grieve? +If they enjoy naggin an growlin, + It maks little difference to me, +But wi th' world full o' pleasure to roll in:-- + Why, aw wodn't for all aw could see. + + + +Come thi Ways! + + +Bonny lassie, come thi ways, + An let us goa together! +Tho' we've met wi stormy days, + Ther'll be some sunny weather. +An if joy should spring for me, + Tha shall freely share it; +An if trouble comes to thee, + Aw can help to bear it. + +Tho' thi mammy says us nay, + An thi dad's unwillin'; +Wod ta have me pine away + Wi this love at's killin'? +Come thi ways, an let me twine + Mi arms once moor abaght thee; +Weel tha knows mi heart is thine, + Aw couldn't live withaat thee. + +Ivvery day an haar at slips, + Some pleasure we are missin', +For those bonny rooasy lips + Awm nivver stall'd o' kissin'. +If men wor wise to walk life's track + Withaat sith joys to glad 'em, +He must ha made a sad mistak + At gave a Eve to Adam. + + + +What is it? + + +What is it maks a crusty wife +Forget to scold, an leeave off strife? +What is it smoothes th' rooad throo life? + It's sooap. + +What is it maks a gaumless muff +Grow rich, an roll i' lots o' stuff, +Woll better men can't get enough? + It's sooap. + +What is it, if it worn't theear, +Wod mak some fowks feel varry queer, +An put em i' ther proper sphere? + It's sooap. + +What is it maks fowk wade throo th' snow, +To goa to th' church, becoss they know +'At th' squire's at hooam an sure to goa? + It's sooap. + +What is it gains fowk invitations, +Throo them at live i' lofty stations? +What is it wins mooast situations? + It's sooap. + +What is it men say they detest, +Yet allus like that chap the best +'At gives em twice as mich as th' rest? + It's sooap. + +What is it, when the devil sends +His agents raand to work his ends, +What is it gains him lots o' friends? + It's sooap. + +What is it we should mooast despise, +An by its help refuse to rise, +Tho' poverty's befoor awr eyes? + It's sooap. + +What is it, when life's wasting fast, +When all this world's desires are past, +Will prove noa use to us at last? + It's sooap. + + + +Awst Nivver be Jaylus. + + +"Awst nivver be jaylus, net aw!" + Sed Nancy to th' love ov her heart, +"Aw couldn't, lad, if awd to try, + For aw know varry weel what tha art. +Aw could trust thee to th' world's farthest point, + Noa matter what wimmen wor thear, +They'd nooan put mi nooas aght o'th joint, + Tha'd come back to thi lass tha left here. + +Though tha did walk Leweezy to th' church, + An fowk wink'd an dropt monny a hint, +Aw knew tha'd nooan leav me i'th lurch, + For a dowdy like her wi a squint. +An Ellen at lives at th' yard end, + May simper an innocent look, +But aw think shoo'll ha' farther to fend, + Befoor shoo's a fish to her hook. + +Nay, jaylussy's aght o' my line, + Or else that young widdy next door, +Wod ha heeard some opinions o' mine, + At wodn't quite suit her awm sewer. +What tha can see in her caps me, + For awm sewer shoo's as faal as old Flue, +An aw think when shoo's tawkin to thee, + Shoo mud find surnmat better to do. + +'Shoo's a varry nice lass,' does ta say? + 'An luks looansum tha thinks?' oh! that's it! +Tha'd better set off reight away, + An try to console her a bit. +Shoo's a two-faced deceitful young freet! + Aw wish shoo wor teed raand thi neck! +But goa to her an tell her to-neet, + At Nancy has given thi th' seck. + +Awm nooan jaylus! aw ammot that fond! + Aw think far too mich o' mysen +To care for sich a poucement as yond, + At hankers for other fowk's men! +Aw tell thi aw'll net hold mi tongue! + Awm nooan jaylus tha madlin! it's thee!* +An aw allus shall trust thee as long + As tha nooatices nubdy but me." + + + +Lamentin' an Repentin'. + + +Awst be better when spring comes, aw think, + But aw feel varry sickly an waik, +Awve noa relish for mait nor for drink, + An awm ommost too weary to laik. + +What's to come on us all aw can't tell, + For we havn't a shillin put by; +Ther's nowt left to pop nor to sell, + An aw cannot get trust if aw try. + +My wife has to turn aght to wark, + An th' little uns all do a share; +An they're tewin throo dayleet to dark, + To keep me sittin here i' mi chair. + +It doesn't luk long sin that day + When Bessy wor stood bi mi side; +An shoo promised to love an obey, + An me to protect an provide. + +Shoo wor th' bonniest lass i' all th' taan, + An fowk sed as they saw us that day, +When we coom aght o' th' church, arm i' arm, + Shoo wor throwin' hersen reight away. + +But shoo smiled i' mi face as we went, + An her arm clung moor tightly to mine; +"Aw feel happy," shoo sed, "an content + To know at tha'rt mine an awm thine." + +Aw wor praad ov her bonny breet een,-- + Aw wor praad ov her little white hand,-- +An aw thowt shoo wor fit for a queen, + For ther wornt a grander ith' land. + +We gat on varry weel for a bit, + An aw stuck to mi wark like a man, +An enjoying mi hooam, thear awd sit, + As a chap at works hard nobbut can. + +We hadn't been wed quite a year, + When they showed me a grand little lad, +An th' old wimmen sed, "Sithee! luk here! + He's th' image exact ov his dad." + +But mi mates nivver let me alooan, + Till aw joined i' ther frolics and spree, +An tho' Bessy went short, or had nooan, + Shoo wor kinder nor ivver to me. + +Sometimes when shoo's ventur'd to say, + "Come hooam an stop in lad, to-neet." +Awve felt shamed an awve hurried away, + For her een have been glist'nin wi weet. + +An awve sed to misen 'at awd mend, + For it's wrang to be gooin on soa; +But at neet back to th' aleus awd wend, + Wi th' furst swillgut at ax'd me to goa. + +Two childer wor added to th' stock, + But aw drank, an mi wark went to th' bad; +An awve known em be rooarin for jock, + Wol awve druffen what they should ha had. + +Aw seldom went hooam but to sleep, + Tho Bessy ne'er offered to chide; +But grief 'at is silent is deep, + An sorrow's net easy to hide. + +If th' childer wod nobbut complain, + Or Bessy get peevish an tart, +Aw could put up wi th' anguish or pain, + But ther kindness is braikin mi heart. + +Little Emma, poor child, ov a neet + Does th' neighbours odd jobs nah and then, +An shoo runs hersen off ov her feet, + For a hawpny, they think for hersen. + +An shoo saved em until shoo gat three, + But this mornin away shoo went aght, +An spent em o' bacca for me, + 'Coss shoo thowt aw luk'd looansum withaat. + +It's a lesson awst nivver forget, + An awve bid a gooid-bye to strong drink; +An theyst hev ther reward yo can bet;-- + Awst be better when spring comes aw think. + +An if spendin what's left o' mi life + For ther sakes can mak up for lost time, +Ther shan't be a happier wife, + Nor three better loved childer nor mine. + +Aw can't help mi een runnin o'er, + For mi heart does mi conduct condemn; +But awl promise to do soa noa moor, + If God spares me to Bessy and them. + + + +Bite Bigger. + + +As aw hurried throo th' taan to mi wark, + (Aw wur lat, for all th' whistles had gooan,) +Aw happen'd to hear a remark, + At ud fotch tears throo th' heart ov a stooan.-- +It wur raanin, an snawin, an cowd, + An th' flagstoans wur covered wi muck, +An th' east wind booath whistled an howl'd, + It saanded like nowt but ill luck; +When two little lads, donn'd i' rags, + Baght stockins or shoes o' ther feet, +Coom trapesin away ower th' flags, + Booath on em sodden'd wi th' weet.-- +Th' owdest mud happen be ten, + Th' young en be hauf on't,--noa moor; +As aw luk'd on, aw sed to misen, + God help fowk this weather at's poor! +Th' big en sam'd summat off th' graand, + An aw luk'd just to see what 't could be; +'Twur a few wizend flaars he'd faand, + An they seem'd to ha fill'd him wi glee: +An he sed, "Come on, Billy, may be + We shall find summat else by an by, +An if net, tha mun share thease wi me + When we get to some spot where its dry." +Leet-hearted they trotted away, + An aw follow'd, coss 'twur i' mi rooad; +But aw thowt awd ne'er seen sich a day-- + It worn't fit ta be aght for a tooad. +Sooin th' big en agean slipt away, + An sam'd summat else aght o'th' muck, +An he cried aght, "Luk here, Bill! to-day + Arn't we blest wi' a seet o' gooid luck? +Here's a apple! an th' mooast on it's saand: + What's rotten aw'll throw into th' street-- +Worn't it gooid to ligg thear to be faand? + Nah booath on us con have a treat." +Soa he wiped it, an rubb'd it, an then + Sed, "Billy, thee bite off a bit; +If tha hasn't been lucky thisen + Tha shall share wi me sich as aw get." +Soa th' little en bate off a touch, + T'other's face beemed wi pleasur all throo, +An' he sed, "Nay, tha hasn't taen much, + Bite agean, an bite bigger; nah do!" + +Aw waited to hear nowt noa moor,-- + Thinks aw, thear's a lesson for me! +Tha's a heart i' thi breast, if tha'rt poor: + Th' world wur richer wi' moor sich as thee! +Tuppince wur all th' brass aw had, + An awd ment it for ale when coom nooin, +But aw thowt aw'll goa give it yond lad, + He desarves it for what he's been dooin. +Soa aw sed, "Lad, here's tuppince for thee, + For thi sen,"--an they stared like two geese; +But he sed, woll th' tear stood in his e'e, + "Nay, it'll just be a penny a piece." +"God bless thi! do just as tha will, + An may better days speedily come; +Tho clam'd, an hauf donn'd, mi lad, still + Tha'rt a deal nearer Heaven nur some." + + + +Second Thowts. + + +Aw've been walkin up th' loin all ith weet, + Aw felt sure tha'd be comin that way; +For tha promised tha'd meet me to-neet, + An answer me "Aye" or else "Nay." +Tho aw hevn't mich fear tha'll refuse, + Yet awd rayther mi fate tha'd decide, +For this trailin abaat is no use, + Unless tha'll at last be mi bride. + +Aw dooant like keepin thus i' suspense, + An aw think tha'rt too full o' consait; +If aw get thee tha'll bring me expense, + To provide thee wi clooas an wi mait. +If tha fancies all th' gain's o' my side + Tha'rt makkin a sorry mistak, +For when a chap tackles a bride, + He's an extra looad on his back. + +An in fact, when aw study things o'er, + Awm nooan sorry tha hasn't shown up, +For awm nooan badly off nah awm sure, + For awve plenty to ait an to sup. +Aw've noa wife to find fault if awm lat, + Aw've noa childer to feed nor to clam, +An when aw put this thing to that, + Aw think aw shall stop as aw am. + + + +A Neet when aw've Nowt to do. + + +Why lad, awm sewer tha'rt ommost done, + This ovvertime is killin; +'Twor allus soa sin th' world begun, + They put o' them at's willin. +Tha's ne'er a neet to call thi own,-- + Tha starts furst thing o' Mundy, +An works thi fingers fair to th' booan, + Booath day an neet wol Sundy. +Aw know tha addles extra pay,-- + We couldn't weel do baght it, +But if tha'rt browt hooam sick some day, + We'st ha to do withaat it. +Aw seldom get to see thi face, + Exceptin when tha'rt aitin; +Neet after neet aw caar ith' place + Wol awm fair sick o' waitin. +An when tha comes, tha'rt off to bed, + Befoor aw've chonce o' spaikin, +An th' childer luk, aw've ofttimes sed, + Like orphans when they're laikin. +Come hooam at six o'clock to-morn, + An let wark goa to hummer, +Thi face is growin white an worn:-- + Tha'll nivver last all summer. +Besides ther's lots o' little jobs, + At tha can tak a hand in,-- +That kist o' drawers has lost two nobs, + An th' table leg wants mendin. +Ther's th' fixin up oth' winderblind, + An th' chaymer wants whiteweshin, +Th' wall's filled wi marks o' ivvery kind,-- + (Yond lads desarve a threshin.) +Aw can't shake th' carpet bi misen, + Nor lig it square an straightly;-- +Th' childer mud help me nah an then, + But they ne'er do nowt reightly. +That bed o' awrs wants shakin up, + All th' flocks has stuck together, +Tha knows they all want braikin up, + Or they'll get tough as leather. +An th' coilhoil wants a coit o' lime, + Then it'll smell mich sweeter, +An th' cellar should be done this time, + It maks it soa mich leeter. +Ther's lots o' little things beside;-- + All th' childer's clogs want spetchin, +Jack's hurts his toa, tha'll mak em wide, + Wi varry little stretchin. +Besides, tha raillee wants a rest, + For a neet, or maybe two, +An tha can fix theas trifles best, + Some neet when tha's nowt to do. +Awm net like some at connot feel + For others, aw assure thi: +Tha's tewd until tha'rt owt but weel; + An nowt but rest can cure thi. +Soa come hooam sooin an spend a neet, + Wi me an Jack an Freddy, +They'll think it's ivver sich a treat; + An aw'll have th' whitewesh ready. + + + +Ther's much Expected. + + +Life's pathway is full o' deep ruts, + An we mun tak gooid heed lest we stumble; +Man is made up of "ifs" and of "buts," + It seems pairt ov his natur to grumble. + +But if we'd all anxiously tak + To makkin things smooth as we're able, +Ther'd be monny a better clooath'd back, + An' monny a better spread table. + +It's a sad state o' things when a man + Cannot put ony faith in his brother, +An fancies he'll chait if he can, + An rejoice ovver th' fall ov another. + +An it's sad when yo see some at stand + High in social position an power, +To know at ther fortuns wor plann'd, + An built, aght oth' wrecks o' those lower. + +It's sad to see luxury rife, + An fortuns being thowtlessly wasted; +While others are wearin out life, + With the furst drops o' pleasure untasted. + +Some in carriages rollin away, + To a ball, or a rout, or a revel; +But ther chariots may bear em some day + Varry near to the gates ov the devil. + +Oh! charity surely is rare, + Or ther'd net be soa monny neglected; +For ther's lots wi enuff an' to spare, + An from them varry mich is expected. + +An tho' in this world they've ther fill + Of its pleasures, an wilfully blinded, +Let deeath come--an surely it will-- + They'll be then ov ther duties reminded. + +An when called on, they, tremblin wi fear, + Say "The hungry an nak'd we ne'er knew," +That sentence shall fall o' ther ear-- + "Depart from me; I never knew you." + +Then, oh! let us do what we can, + Nor with this world's goods play the miser; +If it's wise to lend money to man, + To lend to the Lord _must_ be wiser. + + + +Coortin Days. + + +Coortin days,--Coortin days,--loved one an lover! +What wod aw give if those days could come ovver? +Weddin is joyous,--its pleasur unstinted; +But coortin is th' sweetest thing ivver invented. + Walkin an talkin, + An nursin Love's spark, + Charmin an warmin + Tho th' neet may be dark. + +Oh! but it's nice when yor way's long and dreary, +To walk wi yor arm raand th' waist ov yor dearie; +Tellin sweet falsehoods, the haars to beguile em, +(If yo tell'd em ith' dayleet they'd put yo ith' sylum.) + But ivverything's fair + I' love an i' war, + But be sewer to act square;-- + An do if yo dar! + +Squeezin an kissin an kissin an squeezin,-- +Laughin an coughin an ticklin an sneezin,-- +But remember,--if maybe, sich knowledge yo lack, +Allus smile in her face, but, sneeze at her back. + Yo may think, if a fooil, + Sich a thing nivver mattered, + But a lass, as a rule, + Doesn't want to be spattered. + +When th' coortin neet comes, tho' yor appetite's ragin, +Dooant fill up wi oonions, wi mar'gum an sage in, +Remember, the darlin, where centred yor bliss is, +Likes to fancy, yor livin on love an her kisses. + An yor linen, if plain, + Have all spotless an fresh: + Then shoo connot complain, + When shoo has it to wesh. + +When Love's flame's been lit, an burst into a glow, +Th' best thing yo can do,--(that's as far as aw know;) +Is to goa to a parson an pay him his price, +An to join yo together he'll put in a splice, + Then together yo'll face + This world's battle an bother, + An if that isn't th' case, + Yo can feight for each other. + + + +Sweet Mistress Moore. + + +Mistress Moore is Johnny's wife, + An Johnny is a druffen sot; +He spends th' best portion of his life + Ith' beershop wi a pipe an pot. +At schooil together John an me + Set side by side like trusty chums, +An nivver did we disagree + Till furst we met sweet Lizzy Lumbs. + At John shoo smiled, + An aw wor riled; +Shoo showed shoo loved him moor nor me; + Her bonny e'en + Aw've seldom seen +Sin that sad day shoo slighted me. + +Aw've heeard fowk say shoo has to want, + For Johnny ofttimes gets oth' spree; +He spends his wages in a rant, + An leeaves his wife to pine or dee. +An monny a time awve ligged i' bed, + An cursed my fate for bein poor, +An monny a bitter tear awve shed, + When thinkin ov sweet Mistress Moore. + For shoo's mi life + Is Johnny's wife, +An tho to love her isn't reet, + What con aw do, + When all th' neet throo +Awm dreamin ov her e'en soa breet. + +Aw'll goa away an leeave this spot, + For fear at we should ivver meet, +For if we did, as sure as shot + Awst throw me daan anent her feet. +Aw know shoo'd think aw wor a fooil, + To love a woman when shoo's wed, +But sin aw saw her furst at schooil, + It's been a wretched life aw've led. + But th' time has come + To leeave mi hooam, +An th' sea between us sooin shall roar, + Yet still mi heart + Will nivver part +Wi' th' image ov sweet Mistress Moore. + + + +Waivin Mewsic. + + +Ther's mewsic ith' shuttle, ith' loom, an ith frame, +Ther's melody mingled ith' noise; +For th' active ther's praises, for th' idle ther's blame, +If they'd harken to th' saand of its voice. +An when flaggin a bit, how refreshin to feel +As you pause an look raand on the throng, +At the clank o' the tappet, the hum o' the wheel, +Sing this plain unmistakable song:-- + Nick a ting, nock a ting; + Wages keep pocketing; +Workin for little is better nor laikin; + Twist an twine, reel an wind; + Keep a contented mind; +Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin. + +To see workin fowk wi a smile o' ther face +As they labour thear day after day; +An hear th' women's voices float sweetly throo th' place, +As they join i' some favorite lay; +It saands amang th' din, as the violet seems +At peeps aght th' green dockens among, +Diffusing a charm ovver th' rest by its means, +Thus it blends i' that steady old song; + Nick a ting, nock a ting, + Wages keep pocketing; +Workin for little is better nor laikin; + Twist an twine, reel an wind, + Keep a contented mind, +Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin. + +An then see what lessons are laid out anent us, +As pick after pick follows time after time, +An warns us tho' silent, to let nowt prevent us +From strivin by little endeavours to climb; +Th' world's made o' trifles, its dust forms a mountain, +Then nivver despair as yor trudgin along, +If troubles will come an yor spirits dishearten, +Yo'll find ther's relief i' that steady owd song; + Nick a ting, nock a ting; + Wages keep pocketin; +Workin for little is better nor laikin; + Twist an twine, reel an wind; + Keep a contented mind; +Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin. + +Life's warp comes throo Heaven, th' weft's faand bi us sen, +To finish a piece we're compell'd to ha booath; +Th' warp's reight, but if th' weft should be faulty, how then? +Noa waiver ith' world can produce a gooid clooath. +Then let us endeavour by workin an strivin, +To finish awr piece so's noa fault can be fun, +An then i' return for awr pains an contrivin, +Th' takker in 'll reward us and whisper "well done." + Clink a clank, clink a clank, + Workin withaat a thank, +May be awr fortun, if soa nivver mind it, + Strivin to do awr best, + We shall be reight at last, +If we lack comfort now, then shall we find it. + + + +Jimmy's Choice. + + +One limpin Jimmy wed a lass; +An this wor th' way it coom to pass-- +He'd saved a little bit o' brass, + An soa he thowt he'd ventur +To tak unto hissen a wife, +To ease his mind ov all its strife, +An be his comfort all throo life-- + An, pray, what should prevent her? + +"Awve brass enuff," he sed, "for two, +An noa wark at awm foorced to do, +But all th' day long can bill an coo, + Just like a little pigeon. +Aw nivver have a druffen rant; +Aw nivver praich teetotal cant; +Aw nivver booast at awm a saint, + I' matters o' religion. + +"Then with a gradely chap like me, +A lass can live mooast happily; +An awl let all awr neighbors see + We'll live withaat a wrangle; +For if two fowk just have a mind +To be to one another kind, +They each may be as easy twined + As th' hannel ov a mangle. + +"For love's moor paar nor oaths an blows, +An kind words, ivverybody knows, +Saves monny a hundred thaasand rows; + An soa we'll start wi kindness; +For if a chap thinks he can win +Love or respect wi oaths an din, +He'll surely find he's been let in, + An sarved reight for his blindness." + +Soa Jimmy went to tell his tale +To a young lass called Sally Swale, +An just for fear his heart should fail, + He gate a drop o' whiskey. +Net mich, but just enuff, yo see, +To put a spark into his e'e, +An mak his tongue a trifle free, + An mak him strong an frisky. + +Young Sally, shoo wor varry shy, +An when he'd done shoo breathed a sigh, +An then began to sob an cry + As if her heart wor brokken. +"Nay, Sally lass,--pray what's amiss?" +He sed, an gave a lovin kiss, +"If awd expected owt like this, + Awm sewer awd ne'er ha spokken." + +At last shoo dried her bonny een, +An felt as praad as if a queen; +An nivver king has ivver been + One hawf as praad as Jimmy. +An soa they made all matters sweet, +An one day quietly stroll'd up th' street, +Till th' owd church door coom into seet-- + Says Jim, "Come, lass, goa wi me." + +Then wed they wor an off they went +To start ther life ov sweet content; +An Sally ax'd him whear he meant + Ther honey-mooin to spend at? +Says Jim, "We're best at hooam, aw think, +We've lots o' stuff to ait an drink." +But Sally gave a knowin wink, + An sed, "Nay, awl net stand that. + +"Tha needn't think aw meean to be +Shut up like in a nunnery; +Awm fond o' life, an love a spree, + As weel as onny other." +"Tha cannot goa," sed Jim, "that's flat." +"But goa aw shall, awl tell thee that! +What wod ta have a woman at? + Shame on thee for sich bother!" + +Jim scrat his heead, "Nah lass," sed he, +"One on us mun a maister be, +Or else we'st allus disagree, + An nivver live contented." +Sed Sal, "Awd ne'er a maister yet, +An if tha thowt a slave to get, +Tha'll find thisen mista'en, awl bet; + Awm sewer aw nivver meant it." + +Jim tried his best to change her mind, +But mud as weel ha saved his wind; +An soa to prove he worn't unkind, + He gave in just to pleeas her. +He's allus follow'd th' plan sin then, +To help her just to pleeas hersen; +An nah, he says, "They're fooilish men + At wed a wife to teeas her." + + + +Old Moorcock. + + +Awm havin a smook bi misel, + Net a soul here to spaik a word to, +Awve noa gossip to hear nor to tell, + An ther's nowt aw feel anxious to do. + +Awve noa noashun o' writin a line, + Tho' awve just dipt mi pen into th' ink, +Towards warkin aw dooant mich incline, + An awm ommost too lazy to think. + +Awve noa riches to mak me feel vain, + An yet awve as mich as aw need; +Awve noa sickness to cause me a pain, + An noa troubles to mak mi heart bleed. + +Awr Dolly's crept off to her bed, + An aw hear shoo's beginnin to snoor; +(That upset me when furst we wor wed, + But nah it disturbs me noa moor.) + +Like me, shoo taks things as they come, + Makkin th' best o' what falls to her lot, +Shoo's content wi her own humble hooam, + For her world's i' this snug little cot. + +We know at we're booath growin old, + But Time's traces we hardly can see; +An tho' fifty years o'er us have roll'd, + Shoo's still th' same young Dolly to me. + +Her face may be wrinkled an grey, + An her een may be losin ther shine, +But her heart's just as leetsome to-day + As it wor when aw furst made her mine. + +Awve mi hobbies to keep me i' toit, + Awve noa whistle nor bell to obey, +Awve mi wark when aw like to goa to it, + An mi time's all mi own, neet an day. + +An tho' some pass me by wi a sneer, + An some pity mi lowly estate, +Aw think awve a deeal less to fear + Nor them at's soa wealthy an great. + +When th' sky stretches aght blue an breet, + An th' heather's i' blossom all round, +Makkin th' mornin's cooil breezes smell sweet, + As they rustle along ovver th' graand. + +When aw listen to th' lark as he sings + Far aboon, ommost lost to mi view, +Aw lang for a pair ov his wings, + To fly wi him, an sing like him, too. + +When aw sit under th' shade of a tree, + Wi mi book, or mi pipe, or mi pen, +Aw think them at's sooary for me + Had far better pity thersen. + +When wintry storms howl ovver th' moor, + An snow covers all, far an wide, +Aw carefully festen mi door, + An creep cloise up to th' fire inside. + +A basin o' porridge may be, + To some a despisable dish, +But it allus comes welcome to me, + If awve nobbut as mich as aw wish. + +Mi cloas are old-fashioned, they say, + An aw havn't a daat but it's true; +Yet they answer ther purpose to-day + Just as weel as if th' fashion wor new. + +Let them at think joys nobbut dwell + Wheear riches are piled up i' stoor, +Try to get a gooid share for thersel' + But leave me mi snug cot up o'th' moor. + +Mi bacca's all done, soa aw'll creep + Off to bed, just as quite as a maase, +For if Dolly's disturbed ov her sleep, + Ther'll be a fine racket i'th' haase. + +Aw mun keep th' band i'th' nick if aw can, + For if shoo gets her temper once crost, +All comforts an joys aw may plan + Is just soa mich labour at's lost. + + + +Th' Short-Timer. + + +Some poets sing o' gipsy queens, + An some o' ladies fine; +Aw'll sing a song o' other scenes,-- + A humbler muse is mine. +Jewels, an' gold, an silken frills, + Are things too heigh for me; +But wol mi harp wi vigour thrills, + Aw'll strike a chord for thee. + + Poor lassie wan, + Do th' best tha can, + Although thi fate be hard. + A time ther'll be + When sich as thee + Shall have yor full reward. + +At hauf-past five tha leaves thi bed, + An off tha goes to wark; +An gropes thi way to mill or shed, + Six months o'th' year i'th' dark. +Tha gets but little for thi pains, + But that's noa fault o' thine; +Thi maister reckons up _his_ gains, + An ligs i bed till nine. + + Poor lassie wan, &c. + +He's little childer ov his own + 'At's quite as old as thee; +They ride i' cushioned carriages + 'At's beautiful to see; +They'd fear to spoil ther little hand, + To touch thy greasy brat: +It's wark like thine at makes em grand-- + They nivver think o' that. + + Poor lassie wan, &c. + +I' summer time they romp an' play + Where flowers grow wild and sweet; +Ther bodies strong, ther spirits gay, + They thrive throo morn to neet. +But tha's a cough, aw hear tha has, + An oft aw've known thee sick; +But tha mun work, poor little lass, + Foa hauf-a-craan a wick. + + Poor lassie wan, &c. + +Aw envy net fowks' better lot-- + Aw shouldn't like to swap. +Aw'm quite contented wi mi cot; + Aw'm but a workin chap. +But if aw had a lot o' brass + Aw'd think o' them at's poor; +Aw'd have yo' childer workin less, + An mak yor wages moor. + + Poor lassie wan, &c. + +"There is a land of pure delight, + Where saints immortal reign, +Infinite day excludes the night, + And pleasures banish pain." +Noa fact'ry bell shall greet thi ear, + I' that sweet home ov love; +An' those at scorn thi sufferins here + May envy thee above. + + Poor lassie wan, &c. + + + +Sol an' Doll. + + +Awm a young Yorksher lad as jolly an gay, + As a lark on a sunshiny mornin, +An Dolly's as fair as the flaars i' May, + An trubbles we meean to be scornin. +If we live wol to-morn aw shall make her mi wife, + An we'll donce to a rollickin measure, +For we booath are agreed to begin wedded life, + As we mean to goa throo it, wi pleasure. + + Then we'll donce an be gay, + An we'll laff care away, + An we'll nivver sit broodin o'er sorrow, + An mi Dolly an me, + Ax yo all to a spree; + Come an donce at awr weddin to-morrow. + +Awst be bashful awm sewer, aw wor ne'er wed befoor, + An aw feel rayther funny abaat it; +But Dolly aw guess can drag me aght o'th' mess, + An if ther's owt short we'll do baat it. +Mi mother says "Sol, if tha'll leave it to Doll, + Tha'll find shoo can taich thee a wrinkle, +Shoo's expectin some fun befoor it's all done + Aw can tell, for aw saw her e'en twinkle." + + Then we'll donce &c. + +We've a haase to step in, all as smart as a pin, + An we've beddin an furnitur plenty; +We've a pig an a caah, an aw connot tell ha + Monny paands, but aw think abaat twenty. +We've noa family yet, but ther will be aw'll bet, + For true comfort aw think ther's nowt licks it +An if they dooant come, aw'll just let it alooan, + An aw'll leave it for Dolly to fix it. + + Then we'll donce &c. + + + +Their Fred. + + +"He's a nowt! + If ther's owt +At a child shouldn't do, + He mun try, + Or know why, +Befoor th' day's getten throo. + An his dad, + Ov his lad +Taks noa nooatice at all, + Aw declare + It's net fair +For Job's patience he'd stall. + Awm his mam,-- + That aw am, +But awm ommost worn aght, + A gooid lick + Wi a stick, +He just cares nowt abaght. + Thear he goes, + Wi a nooas +Like a chaneller's shop! + Aw may call, + Or may bawl, +But th' young imp willn't stop. + Thear's a cat, + He spies that, +Nah he's having a race!-- + That's his way + Ivvery day +If a cat's abaght th' place. + But if aw + Wor near by, +Awd just fotch him a seawse! + Come thee here! + Does ta hear? +Come thi ways into th' haase! + Who's that flat? + What's he at? +If he touches awr Fred, + If aw live + Aw'll goa rive +Ivvery hair off his head! + What's th' lad done? + It's his fun! +Tried to kill yor old cat? + Well suppooas + At he does! +Bless mi life! What bi that? + He's mi own, + Flesh an' booan, +An aw'll net have him lickt; + If he's wild, + He's a child, +Pray what can yo expect! + Did um doy! + Little joy! +Let's ha nooan o' them skrikes + Nowty man! + Why he can +Kill a cat if he likes. +Hush a bee, hush a bye, +Little Freddy munnot cry." + + + +Love an' Labor. + + +Th' swallows are buildin ther nests, Jenny, + Th' springtime has come with its flowers; +Th' fields in ther greenest are drest, Jenny, + An th' songsters mak music ith' bowers. +Daisies an buttercups smile, Jenny, + Laughingly th' brook flows along;-- +An awm havin a smook set oth' stile, Jenny, + But this bacca's uncommonly strong. + +Aw wonder if thy heart like mine, Jenny, + Finds its love-burden hard to be borne; +Do thi een wi' breet tears ov joy shine, Jenny, + As they glistened an shone yestermorn? +Ther's noa treasure wi' thee can compare, Jenny, + Aw'd net change thi for wealth or estate;-- +But aw'll goa nah some braikfast to share, Jenny, + For aw can't live baght summat to ait. + +Like a nightingale if aw could sing, Jenny, + Aw'd pearch near thy winder at neet, +An mi choicest love ditties aw'd bring, Jenny, + An lull thi to rest soft an sweet. +Or if th' wand ov a fairy wor mine, Jenny, + Aw'd grant thi whate'er tha could wish;-- +But theas porridge are salty as brine, Jenny, + An they'll mak me as dry as a fish. + +A garland ov lillies aw'd twine, Jenny, + An place on thy curls golden bright, +But aw know 'at they quickly wod pine, Jenny, + I' despair at thy brow's purer white. +Them angels 'at fell bi ther pride, Jenny, + Wi' charms like thine nivver wor deckt;-- +But yond muck 'at's ith' mistal's to side, Jenny, + Aw mun start on or else aw'st get seckt. + +Varry sooin aw shall mak thi mi wife, Jenny, + An awr cot shall a paradise be; +Tha shall nivver know trubble or strife, Jenny, + If aw'm able to keep 'em throo thee. +If ther's happiness this side oth' grave, Jenny, + Tha shall sewerly come in for thi share;-- +An aw'll tell thi what else tha shall have, Jenny, + When aw've a two-or-three moor minnits to spare. + + + +Nooan so Bad. + + +This world is net a paradise, + Tho' railly aw dooant see, +What fowk should growl soa mich abaat;-- + Its gooid enuff for me. +It's th' only world aw've ivver known, + An them 'at grummel soa, +An praich abaat a better land, + Seem varry looath to goa. + +Ther's some things 'at awm apt to think, + If aw'd been th' engineer, +Aw might ha changed,--but its noa use,-- + Aw connot interfere. +We're foorced to tak it as it is; + What faults we think we see; +It mayn't be what it owt to be,-- + But its gooid enuff for me. + +Then if we connot alter things, + Its folly to complain; +To hunt for faults an failins, + Allus gooas agean my grain. +When ther's soa monny pleasant things, + Why should we hunt for pain, +If troubles come, we needn't freeat, + For sunshine follows rain. + +If th' world gooas cruckt,--what's that to us? + We connot mak it straight; +But aw've come to this conclusion, + 'At its th' fowk 'at isn't reight. +If ivverybody 'ud try to do + Ther best wi' th' means they had, +Aw think 'at they'd agree wi' me,-- + This world is nooan soa bad. + + + +Th' Honest Hard Worker. + + +It's hard what poor fowk mun put up wi'! + What insults an snubs they've to tak! +What bowin an scrapin's expected, + If a chap's a black coit on his back. +As if clooas made a chap ony better, + Or riches improved a man's heart; +As if muck in a carriage smell'd sweeter + Nor th' same muck wod smell in a cart. + +Give me one, hard workin, an' honest, + Tho' his clooas may be greasy and coorse; +If it's muck 'at's been getten bi labor, + It doesn't mak th' man onny worse. +Awm sick o' thease simpering dandies, + 'At think coss they've getten some brass, +They've a reight to luk daan at th' hard workers, + An' curl up their nooas as they pass. + +It's a poor sooart o' life to be leadin, + To be curlin an partin ther hair; +An seekin one's own fun and pleasure, + Nivver thinkin ha others mun fare. +It's all varry weel to be spendin + Ther time at a hunt or a ball, +But if th' workers war huntin an doncin, + Whativer wod come on us all? + +Ther's summat beside fun an frolic + To live for, aw think, if we try; +Th' world owes moor to a honest hard worker + Nor it does to a rich fly-bi-sky. +Tho' wealth aw acknowledge is useful, + An' awve oft felt a want on't misen, +Yet th' world withaat brass could keep movin, + But it wodn't do long withaat men. + +One truth they may put i' ther meersham, + An smoke it--that is if they can; +A man may mak hooshuns o' riches, + But riches can ne'er mak a man. +Then give me that honest hard worker, + 'At labors throo mornin to neet, +Tho' his rest may be little an seldom, + Yet th' little he gets he finds sweet. + +He may rank wi' his wealthier brother, + An rank heigher, aw fancy, nor some; +For a hand 'at's weel hoofed wi' hard labor + Is a passport to th' world 'at's to come. +For we know it's a sin to be idle, + As man's days i' this world are but few; +Then let's all wi' awr lot be contented, + An continue to toil an to tew. + +For ther's one thing we all may be sure on, + If we each do awr best wol we're here; +'At when th' time comes for reckonin, we're called on, + We shall have varry little to fear. +An at last, when we throw daan awr tackle, + An are biddin farewell to life's stage, +May we hear a voice whisper at partin, + "Come on, lad! Tha's haddled thi wage." + + + +Peevish Poll. + + +Aw've heeard ov Mary Mischief, + An aw've read ov Natterin Nan; +An aw've known a Grumlin Judy, + An a cross-grained Sarah Ann; +But wi' all ther faults an failins, + They still seem varry tame, +Compared to one aw'll tell yo on, + But aw dursn't tell her name. + +Aw'll simply call her Peevish Poll, + That name suits to a dot; +But if shoo thowt 'twor meant for her, + Yo bet, aw'st get it hot. +Shoo's fat an fair an forty, + An her smile's as sweet as spice, +An her voice is low an tender + When shoo's tryin to act nice. + +Shoo's lots ov little winnin ways, + 'At fit her like a glove; +An fowk say shoo's allus pleasant,-- + Just a woman they could love. +But if they nobbut had her, + They'd find aght for a start, +It isn't her wi' th' sweetest smile + At's getten th' kindest heart. + +Haivver her poor husband lives + An stands it,--that licks doll! +Aw'st ha been hung if aw'd been cursed + Wi' sich a wife as Poll! +Her children three, sneak in an aght + As if they wor hawf deead +They seem expectin, hawf ther time, + A claat o'th' side o'th' heead. + +If they goa aght to laik, shoo storms + Abaat her looanly state; +If they stop in, then shoo declares + They're allus in her gate. +If they should start to sing or tawk + Shoo tells 'em, "hold yor din!" +An if they all sit mum, shoo says, + "It railly is a sin +To think ha shoo's to sit an mope, + All th' time at they're away, +An when they're hooam they sit like stoops + Withaat a word to say." + +If feelin cold they creep near th' fire, + They'll varry sooin get floored; +Then shoo'll oppen th' door an winder + Declarin shoo's fair smoored. +When its soa swelterin an hot + They can hardly get ther breeath, +Shoo'll pile on coils an shut all cloise, + An sware shoo's starved to deeath. + +Whativver's wrang when they're abaat, + Is their fault for bein thear; +An if owt's wrang when they're away, + It's coss they wornt near. +To keep 'em all i' misery, + Is th' only joy shoo knows; +An then shoo blames her husband, + For bein allus makkin rows. + +Poor chap he's wearin fast away,-- + He'll leeav us before long; +A castiron man wod have noa chonce + Wi' sich a woman's tongue. +An then shoo'll freeat and sigh, an try + His virtues to extol; +But th' mourner, mooast sincere will be + That chap 'at next weds Poll. + + + +The Old Bachelor's Story. + + +It was an humble cottage, + Snug in a rustic lane, +Geraniums and fuschias peep'd + From every window-pane; + +The dark-leaved ivy dressed its walls, + Houseleek adorned the thatch; +The door was standing open wide,-- + They had no need of latch. + +And close besides the corner + There stood an old stone well, +Which caught a mimic waterfall, + That warbled as it fell. + +The cat, crouched on the well-worn steps, + Was blinking in the sun; +The birds sang out a welcome + To the morning just begun. + +An air of peace and happiness + Pervaded all the scene; +The tall trees formed a back ground + Of rich and varied green; + +And all was steeped in quietness, + Save nature's music wild, +When all at once, methought I heard + The sobbing of a child. + +I listened, and the sound again + Smote clearly on my ear: +"Can there,"--I wondering asked myself-- + "Can there be sorrow here?"-- + +I looked within, and on the floor + Was sat a little boy, +Striving to soothe his sister's grief + By giving her a toy. + +"Why weeps your sister thus?" I asked; + "What is her cause of grief? +Come tell me, little man," I said, + "Come tell me, and be brief." + +Clasping his sister closer still, + He kissed her tear-stained face, +And thus, in homely Yorkshire phrase, + He told their mournful case. + + ------ + +"Mi mammy, sir, shoos liggin thear, + I' th' shut-up bed i'th' nook; +An' tho aw've tried to wakken her, + Shoo'll nawther spaik nor look. + +Mi sissy wants her porridge, + An its time shoo had 'em too; +But th' foir's gooan aght an th' mail's all done-- + Aw dooant know what to do. + +An O, my mammy's varry cold-- + Just come an touch her arm: +Aw've done mi best to hap her up, + But connot mak her warm. + +Mi daddy he once fell asleep, + An nivver wakken'd moor: +Aw saw 'em put him in a box, + An tak him aght o'th' door. + +He nivver comes to see us nah, + As once he used to do, +An let mi ride upon his back-- + Me, an mi sissy too. + +An if they know mi mammy sleeps, + Soa cold, an white, an still, +Aw'm feeard they'll come an fotch her, sir; + O, sir, aw'm feeard they will! + +Aw happen could get on misen, + For aw con work a bit, +But little sissy, sir, yo see, + Shoo's varry young as yet. + +Oh! dunnot let fowk tak mi mam! + Help me to rouse her up! +An if shoo wants her physic, + See,--it's in this little cup. + +Aw know her heead wor bad last neet, + When putting us to bed; +Shoo said, 'God bless yo, little things!' + An that wor all shoo sed. + +Aw saw a tear wor in her e'e-- + In fact, it's seldom dry: +Sin daddy went shoo allus cries, + But nivver tells us why. + +Aw think it's coss he isn't here, + 'At maks her e'en soa dim; +Shoo says, he'll nivver come to us, + But we may goa to him. + +But if shoo's gooan an left us here, + What mun we do or say?-- +We connot follow her unless, + Somebody 'll show us th' way." + + ---- + +My heart was full to bursting, + When I heard the woeful tale; +I gazed a moment on the face + Which death had left so pale; + +Then clasping to my heaving breast + The little orphan pair, +I sank upon my bended knees, + And offered up a prayer, + +That God would give me power to aid + Those children in distress, +That I might as a father be + Unto the fatherless. + +Then coaxingly I led them forth; + And as the road was long, +I bore them in my arms by turns-- + Their tears had made me strong. + +I took them to my humble home, + Where now they may be seen, +The lad,--a noble-minded youth,-- + His "sissy,"--beauty's queen. + +And now if you should chance to see, + Far from the bustling throng, +An old man, whom a youth and maid + Lead tenderly along;-- + +And if you, wondering, long to know + The history of the three,-- +They are the little orphan pair-- + The poor old man is me: + +And oft upon the grassy mound + 'Neath which their parents sleep, +They bend the knee, and pray for me; + I pray for them and weep. + + + +Did yo Ivver! + + +"Gooid gracious!" cried Susy, one fine summer's morn, + "Here's a bonny to do! aw declare! +Aw wor nivver soa capt sin th' day aw wor born! + Aw neer saw sich a seet at a fair. + +Here, Sally! come luk! There's a maase made its nest + Reight i'th' craan o' mi new Sundy bonnet! +Haivver its fun its way into this chist, + That caps me! Aw'm fast what to mak on it! + +It's cut! Sithee thear! It's run reight under th' bed! + An luk here! What's these little things stirrin? +If they arn't some young uns 'at th' gooid-for-nowt's bred, + May aw be as deead as a herrin! + +But what does ta say? 'Aw mun draand 'em?' nooan soa! + Just luk ha they're seekin ther mother; +Shoo must be a poor little softheead to goa; + For awm nooan baan to cause her noa bother. + +But its rayther to bad, just to mak her hooam thear; + For mi old en's net fit to be seen in; +An this new en, awm thinkin, 'll luk rayther queer + After sich a rum lot as that's been in. + +But shut up awr pussy, an heed what aw say; + Yo mun keep a sharp eye or shoo'll chait us; +Ah if shoo sees th' mother shoo'll kill it! An pray + What mun become o' these poor helpless crayturs? + +A'a dear! fowk have mich to be thankful for, yet, + 'At's a roof o' ther own to cawer under, +For if we'd to seek ony nook we could get, + Whativver'd come on us aw wonder? + +We should nooan on us like to be turned aght o' door, + Wi' a lot o' young bairns to take care on; +An altho' awm baght bonnet, an think misen poor, + What little aw have yo'st have't share on. + +That poor little maase aw dooant think meant me harm, + Shoo ne'er knew what that bonnet had cost me; +All shoo wanted wor some little nook snug an warm + An a gooid two-o'-three shillin its lost me. + +Aw should think as they've come into th' world born i' silk, + They'll be aristocratical varmin; +But awm wasting mi time! awl goa get 'em some milk, + An na daat but th' owd lass likes it warmin. + +Bless mi life! a few drops 'll sarve them! If we try + Awm weel sure we can easily spare 'em, +But as sooin as they're able, awl mak 'em all fly! + Nivver mind if aw dooant! harum scarum!" + + + +A Quiet Tawk. + + +"Nah, lass, caar thi daan, an let's have a chat,-- + It's long sin we'd th' haase to ussen; +Just give me thi nooations o' this thing an that, + What tha thinks abaat measures an men. +We've lived a long time i' this world an we've seen, + A share of its joys an its cares; +Tha wor nooan born baght wit, an tha'rt net varry green, + Soa let's hear what tha thinks of affairs." + +"Well, Jooany, aw've thowt a gooid deal i' mi time, + An aw think wi' one thing tha'll agree,-- +If tha'd listened sometimes to advice sich as mine, + It mud ha been better for thee. +This smookin an drinkin--tha knows tha does booath, + It's a sad waste o' brass tha'll admit; +But awm net findin fault,--noa indeed! awd be looath! + But aw want thi to reason a bit." + +"Then tha'rt lawse i' thi tawk, tho' tha doesn't mean wrang, + An tha says stuff aw darnt repeat; +An tha grumels at hooam if we chonce to be thrang, + When tha comes throo thi wark of a neet. +An if th' childer are noisy, tha kicks up a shine, + Tha mud want 'em as dummy as wax; +An if they should want owt to laik wi' 'at's thine, + They're ommost too freetened to ax." + +"An they all want new clooas, they're ashamed to be seen, + An aw've net had a new cap this year; +An awm sewer it's fair cappin ha careful we've been, + There's nooan like us for that onnywhear." +"Come, lass, that's enuff,--when aw ax'd thi to talk, + It worn't a sarmon aw meant, +Soa aw'll don on mi hat, an aw'll goa for a walk, + For dang it! tha'rt nivver content!" + + + +Lines, on Startling a Rabbit. + + +Whew!--Tha'rt in a famous hurry! + Awm nooan baan to try to catch thi! +Aw've noa dogs wi' me to worry + Thee poor thing,--aw like to watch thi. +Tha'rt a runner! aw dar back thi, + Why, tha ommost seems to fly! +Did ta think aw meant to tak thi? + Well, awm fond o' rabbit pie. + +Aw dooan't want th' world to misen, mun, + Awm nooan like a dog i'th' manger; +Yet still 'twor happen best to run, + For tha'rt th' safest aght o' danger. +An sometimes fowks' inclination + Leads 'em to do what they shouldn't;-- +But tha's saved me a temptation,-- + Aw've net harmed thi, 'coss aw couldn't. + +Aw wish all temptations fled me, + As tha's fled throo me to-day; +For they've oft to trouble led me, + For which aw've had dear to pay. +An a taicher wise aw've faand thi, + An this lesson gained throo thee; +'At when dangers gether raand me, + Th' wisest tactics is to flee. + +They may call thi coward, Bunny, + But if mine had been thy lot, +Aw should fail to see owt funny, + To be stewin in a pot. +Life to thee, awm sewer is sweeter, + Nor thi flesh to me could prove; +May thy lot an mine grow breeter, + Blest wi' liberty an love. + + + +Nivver Heed. + + +Let others boast ther bit o' brass, + That's moor nor aw can do; +Aw'm nobbut one o'th' workin class, + 'At's strugglin to pool throo; +An if it's little 'at aw get, + It's little 'at aw need; +An if sometimes aw'm pinched a bit, + Aw try to nivver heed. + +Some fowk they tawk o' brokken hearts, + An mourn ther sorry fate, +Becoss they can't keep sarvent men, + An dine off silver plate; +Aw think they'd show more gradely wit + To listen to my creed, +An things they find they connot get, + Why, try to nivver heed. + +Ther's some 'at lang for parks an halls, + An letters to ther name; +But happiness despises walls, + It's nooan a child o' fame. +A robe may lap a woeful chap, + Whose heart wi' grief may bleed, +Wol rags may rest on joyful breast, + Soa hang it! nivver heed! + +Th' sun shines as breet for me as them, + An' th' meadows smell as sweet, +Th' larks sing as sweetly o'er mi heead, + An th' flaars smile at mi feet. +An when a hard day's wark is done, + Aw ait mi humble feed; +Mi appetite's a relish fun, + Soa hang it, nivver heed. + + + +Gronfayther's Days. + + +'A, Johnny! A'a, Johnny! aw'm sooary for thee! +But come thi ways to me, an sit o' mi knee; +For it's shockin to hearken to th' words 'at tha says;-- +Ther wor nooan sich like things i' thi gronfayther's days. + +When aw wor a lad, lads wor lads, tha knows, then; +But nahdays they owt to be 'shamed o' thersen; +For they smook, an they drink, an get other bad ways; +Things wor different once i' thi gronfayther's days. + +Aw remember th' furst day aw went cooartin a bit,-- +An walked aght thi gronny;--aw'st nivver forget; +For we blushed wol us faces wor all in a blaze;-- +It wor noa sin to blush i' thi gronfayther's days, + +Ther's noa lasses nah, John, 'at's fit to be wed; +They've false teeth i' ther maath, an false hair o' ther heead; +They're a mak-up o' buckram, an waddin, an stays,-- +But a lass wor a lass i' thi gronfayther's days. + +At that time a tradesman dealt fairly wi' th' poor, +But nah a fair dealer can't keep oppen th' door; +He's a fooil if he fails, he's a scamp if he pays; +Ther wor honest men lived i' thi gronfayther's days. + +Ther's chimleys an factrys i' ivvery nook nah, +But ther's varry few left 'at con fodder a caah; +An ther's telegraff poles all o'th' edge o'th' highways, +Whear grew bonny green trees i' thi gronfayther's days. + +We're tell'd to be thankful for blessin's 'at's sent, +An aw hooap 'at tha'll alius be blessed wi' content; +Tha mun mak th' best tha con o' this world wol tha stays, +But aw wish tha'd been born i' thi gronfayther's days. + + + +Awr Dooad. + + +Her ladyship's getten a babby,-- + An they're makkin a famous to do,-- +They say,--Providence treated her shabby-- + Shoo wor fairly entitled to two. +But judgin bi th' fuss an rejoicin, + It's happen as weel as it is; +For they could'nt mak moor ov a hoilful, + Nor what they are makkin o' this. + +He's heir to ther titles an riches, + Far moor nor he ivver can spend; +Wi' hard times an cold poverty's twitches, + He'll nivver be called to contend. +Life's rooad will be booarded wi' flaars, + An pleasur will wait on his train, +He can suck at life's sweets, an its saars + Will nivver need cause him a pain. + +Aw cannot help thinkin ha diff'rent + It wor when awr Dooady wor born; +Aw'd to tramp fifteen mile throo a snow storm, + One bitterly, cold early morn. +Aw'd to goa ax old Mally-o'th'-Hippins, + If shoo'd act as booath doctor an nurse;-- +An God bless her! shoo sed, "Aye, an welcome," + Tho' aw had'nt a meg i' mi purse. + +'Twor hard scrattin to get what wor needed, + But we managed someha, to pool throo'; +An what we wor short we ne'er heeded, + For that child fun us plenty to do. +But we'd health, an we loved one another, + Soa things breetened up after a while; +An nah, that young lad an his mother, + Cheer mi on wi' ther prattle an smile. + +Them at th' Hall, may mak feeastin an bluster, + An ther table may grooan wi' its looad; +But ther's one thing aw know they can't muster,-- + That's a lad hawf as grand as awr Dooad. +For his face is like lillies an rooases, + An his limbs sich as seldom are seen; +An just like his father's his nooas is, + An he's getten his mother's blue een. + +Soa th' lord an his lady are welcome, + To mak all they like o' ther brat; +They may hap him i' silk an i' velvet,-- + He's net a bit better for that. +I' life's race they'll meet all sooarts o' weather, + But if they start fair on th' same rooad, +They _may_ run pratty nearly together, + But aw'll bet two to one on awr Dooad. + + + +Whear Natur Missed it. + + +As Rueben wor smookin his pipe tother neet, + Bi th' corner o'th' little "Slip Inn;" +He spied some fowk marchin, an fancied he heeard + A varry queer sooart ov a din. +As nearer they coom he sed, "Bless mi life! + What means all this hullaballoo? +If they dooant stop that din they'll sewer get run in, + An just sarve 'em reight if they do." + +But as they approached, he saw wi' surprise, + They seemed a respectable lot; +An th' hymn at they sung he'd net heeard for soa long, + Wol he felt fairly rooited to th' spot. +I'th' front wor a woman who walked backards rooad, + Beatin time wi' a big umberel, +An he sed, "Well, aw'll bet, that licks all aw've seen yet, + What they'll do next noa mortal can tell." + +On they coom like a flood, an shoo saw Rueben stood,-- + An her een seemed fair blazin wi' leet; +"Halt!" shoo cried, an shoo went an varry sooin sent + Rueben's pipe flyin off into th' street. +"Young man," shoo began, "if yo had been born + To smoke that old pipe, then insteead, +Ov a nice crop o' hair Natur wod a put thear + A chimly at top o' thi heead." + +Rueben felt rather mad, for 'twor all th' pipe he had, + An he sed, "Well, that happen mud be; +But aw'm nobbut human, an thee bein a woman + Has proved a salvation to thee. +If a chap had done that aw'd ha knocked him daan flat, + But wi' yo its a different thing; +But aw'm thinkin someha, th' same law will allaa + Me too smook, at allaas yo to sing." + +Shoo gloored in his face an went back to her place, + As shoo gave him a witherin luk; +An swung her umbrel,--ovverbalanced, an fell + An ligg'd sprawlin her length amang th' muck. +All her army seemed dumb, an th' chap wi' th' big drum, + Turned a bulnex, an let on her chest; +Wol th' fiddles an flute wor ivvery one mute, + An th' tamborines tuk a short rest. + +Then Rueben drew near, an he sed in her ear, + As he lifted her onto her feet; +"Sometimes its as wise when we start to advise, + To be mindful we're net indiscreet. +If yo'd been intended to walk backardsway, + To save yo from gettin that bump, +Dame Natur, in kindness, aw'll ventur to say, + Wod ha planted a e'e i' yor bustle." + + + +That's All. + + +Mi hair is besprinkled wi' gray, + An mi face has grown wrinkled an wan;-- +They say ivvery dog has his day, + An noa daat its th' same way wi a man. +Aw know at mi day is nah passed, + An life's twileet is all at remains; +An neet's drawin near varry fast,-- + An will end all mi troubles an pains. + +Aw can see misen, nah, as a lad, + Full ov mischief an frolic an fun;-- +An aw see what fine chonces aw had, + An regret lots o' things at aw've done. +Thowtless deeds--unkind words--selfish gains,-- + Time wasted, an more things beside, +But th' saddest thowt ivver remains,-- + What aw could ha done, if aw'd but tried. + +Aw've had a fair share ov life's joys, + An aw've nivver known th' want ov a meal; +Aw've ne'er laiked wi' luxuries' toys, + Nor suffered what starvin fowk feel. +But aw'm moor discontented to-day, + When mi memory carries me back, +To know what aw've gethered is clay, + Wol diamonds wor strewed on mi track. + +Aw can't begin ovver agean, + (Maybe its as weel as it is,) +Soa aw'm waitin for th' life 'at's to be, + For ther's nowt to be praad on i' this. +When deeath comes, as sewerly it will, + An aw'm foorced to respond to his call; +Fowk'll say, if they think on me still,-- + "Well, he lived,--an that's abaat all." + + + +Mary Hanner's Peanner. + + +When aw cooarted Mary Hanner, + Aw wor young an varry shy; +An shoo used to play th' peanner + Wol aw sheepishly sat by. +Aw lang'd to tell her summat, + But aw railly hadn't th' pluck, +Tho' monny a time aw started, + Yet, somha aw allus stuck. + +Aw'm sewer shoo must ha guess'd it, + But shoo nivver gave a sign; +Shoo drummed at that peanner;-- + A'a! aw wish it had been mine! +Aw'd ha chopt it into matchwood,-- + Aw'd ha punced it into th' street, +It wor awful aggravatin, + For shoo thumpt it ivvery neet. + +Aw'd getten ommost sickened, + When one day another chap +Aw saw thear, an he'd getten + Mary Hanner on his lap. +Aw didn't stop to argyfy,-- + But fell'd him like an ox; +An Mary Hanner tried to fly + On top o'th' music box. + +But he wor gam,--an sich a job + Aw'd nivver had befor, +We fowt, but aw proved maister, + An aw punced him aght o'th' door. +Then like a Tigercat, at me + Flew ragin Mary Hammer;-- +Yo bet! shoo could thump summat else, + Besides her loud peanner! + +Aw had to stand an tak her blows, + Until shoo'd geeten winded; +"Tha scamp!" shoo says, "tha little knows + What bargainin tha's hindered! +Awr Jack had nobbut coom to pay, + Becoss he's bowt th' peanner, +An nah tha's driven him away!" + "Forgie me, Mary Hanner." + +Aw ran aghtside an sooin fan Jack, + An humbly begged his parden;-- +"All reight,"--he sed, "aw'm commin back," + He didn't care a farden. +He paid her th' brass, then fetched a cart, + An hauled away th' peanner;-- +We're wed sin then, an nowt shall part, + Me an mi Mary Hanner. + + + +Grondad's Lullaby. + + +Sleep bonny babby, thi grondad is near, + Noa harm can touch thee, sleep withaat fear; +Innocent craytur, soa helpless an waik, + Grondad wod give up his life for thy sake, + Sleep little beauty, + Angels thee keep, + Grondad is watchin, + Sleep, beauty, sleep. + +Through the thick mist of past years aw luk back, +Vainly aw try to discover the track +Buried, alas! for no trace can aw see, +Ov the way aw once trod when as sinless as thee, + Sleep little beauty, + Angels thee keep, + Grondad is watchin, + Sleep, beauty, sleep. + +Smilin in slumber,--dreamin ov bliss, +Feelin in fancy a fond mother's kiss; +Richer bi far nor a king on his throne, +Fearlessly facing a future unknown. + Sleep little beauty, + Angels thee keep, + Grondad is watchin, + Sleep, beauty, sleep. + +What wod aw give could aw once agean be, +Innocent, spotless an trustin as thee; +May noa grief give thee occasion to weep, +Blessins attend thee!--Sleep, beauty, sleep. + Sleep little beauty, + Angels thee keep, + Grondad is watchin, + Sleep, beauty, sleep. + + + +Sixty, Turned, To-day. + + +Aw'm turned o' sixty, nah, old lass, + Yet weel aw mind the time, +When like a young horse turned to grass, + Aw gloried i' mi prime. +Aw'st ne'er forget that bonny face + 'At stole mi heart away; +Tho' years have hurried on apace:-- + Aw'm sixty, turned, to-day. + +We had some jolly pranks an gams, + E'en fifty year ago, +When sportive as a pair o' lambs, + We nivver dreeamed ov woe. +When ivvery morn we left us bed, + Wi' spirits leet an gay,-- +But nah, old lass, those days have fled:-- + Aw'm sixty, turned, to-day. + +Yet we've noa reason to repine, + Or luk back wi' regret; +Those youthful days ov thine an mine, + Live sweet in mem'ry yet. +Thy winnin smile aw still can see, + An tho' thi hair's turned grey; +Tha'rt still as sweet an dear to me, + Tho' sixty, turned, to-day. + +We've troubles had, an sickness too, + But then in spite ov all, +We've somha managed to pool throo, + Whativver might befall. +Awr pleasurs far outweighed the pain + We've met along life's way; +An losses past aw caant as gain,-- + When sixty, turned, to-day. + +Awr childer nah are wed an gooan, + To mak hooams for thersels; +But we shall nivver feel alooan, + Wol love within us dwells. +We're drawin near awr journey's end, + We can't much longer stay; +Yet still awr hearts together blend, + Tho' sixty, turned, to-day. + +Then let us humbly bow the knee, + To Him, whose wondrous love, +Has helpt an guided thee an me, + On th' pathway to above. +His mercies we will ne'er forget, + Then let us praise an pray, +To Him whose wings protect us yet; + Tho' sixty, turned, to-day. + + + +That Lad Next Door. + + +Aw've nowt agean mi naybors, + An aw wod'nt have it sed +'At aw wor cross an twazzy, + For aw'm kind an mild asteead. +But ther's an end to patience, + E'en Job knew that aw'm sewer;-- +An he nivver had noa dealins + Wi' that lad 'at lives next door. + +It wod'nt do to tell 'em + What aw think abaat that lad, +One thing aw'm sarten sewer on, + Is, he's ivverything 'at's bad. +He's nivver aght o' mischief, + An he nivver stops his din,-- +He's noa sooiner aght o' one scrape, + Nor he's another in. + +If he wor mine aw'd thresh him, + Wol th' skin coom off his back; +Aw'd cure him teein door-snecks, + Then givin th' door a whack. +Aw'd leearn him to draw th' shape o' me + Wi' chalk on th' nessy door, +An mak mud pies o' awr front steps + An leeav 'em thear bi th' scooar. + +He's been a trifle quieter + For this last day or two; +He's up to some new devilment,-- + Aw dooant know what he'll do. +But here's his father comin, + He's lukkin awful sad,-- +Noa wonder,--aw'st be sad enuff + If aw had sich a lad. + +Aw nivver thowt 'at aw could feel + Sich sorrow, or should grieve, +But little Dick is varry sick, + They dunnot think he'll live. +Aw'd nivver nowt agean him! + Aw liked that lad aw'm sure! +Pray God, be merciful, an spare + That lad 'at lives next door. + + + +A Summer Shaar. + + +It nobbut luks like tother day, +Sin Jane an me first met; +Yet fifty years have rolled away, +But still aw dooant forget. +Th' Sundy schooil wor ovver, +An th' rain wor teemin daan +An shoo had nowt to cover +Her Sundy hat an gaan. +Aw had an umberella, +Quite big enuff for two, +Soa aw made bold to tell her, +Shoo'd be sewer to get weet throo, +Unless shoo'd share it wi' me. +Shoo blushed an sed, "Nay, Ben, +If they should see me wi' thi, +What wod yo're fowk say then?" +"Ne'er heed," says aw, "Tha need'nt care +What other fowk may say; +Ther's room for me an some to spare, +Soa let's start on us way." +Shoo tuk mi arm wi' modest grace, +We booath felt rayther shy; +But then aw'm sewer 'twor noa disgrace, +To keep her new clooas dry. +Aw tried to tawk on different things, +But ivvery thowt aw'd had, +Seem'd to ha flown as if they'd wings, +An left me speechless mad. +But when we gate cloise to her door, +Aw stopt an whispered, "Jane, +Aw'd like to walk wi' thee some moor, +When it doesn't chonce to rain." +Shoo smiled an blushed an sed, "For shame!" +But aw tuk courage then. +Aw cared net if all th' world should blame, +Aw meant to pleas misen, +For shoo wor th' grandest lass i'th' schooil +An th' best,--noa matter what;-- +Aw should ha been a sackless fooil, +To miss a chonce like that. +Soa oft we met to stroll an tawk, +Noa matter, rain or shine; +An one neet as we tuk a walk, +Aw ax't her to be mine. +Shoo gave consent, an sooin we wed:-- +Sin' then we've had full share +Ov rough an smooth, yet still we've led +A life ov little care. +An monny a time aw say to Jane, +If things luk dull an bad;-- +Cheer up! tha knows we owe to th' rain +All th' joys o' life we've had. + + + +Awr Lad. + + +Beautiful babby! Beautiful lad! + Pride o' thi mother and joy o' thi dad! +Full ov sly tricks an sweet winnin ways;-- + Two cherry lips whear a smile ivver plays; +Two little een ov heavenly blue,-- + Wonderinly starin at ivverything new, +Two little cheeks like leaves of a rooas,-- + An planted between em a wee little nooas. +A chin wi' a dimple 'at tempts one to kiss;-- + Nivver wor bonnier babby nor this. +Two little hands 'at are seldom at rest,-- + Except when asleep in thy snug little nest. +Two little feet 'at are kickin all day, + Up an daan, in an aght, like two kittens at play. +Welcome as dewdrops 'at freshen the flaars, + Soa has thy commin cheered this life ov awrs. +What tha may come to noa mortal can tell;-- + We hooap an we pray 'at all may be well. +We've other young taistrels, one, two an three, + But net one ith' bunch is moor welcome nor thee. +Sometimes we are tempted to grummel an freeat, + Becoss we goa short ov what other fowk get. +Poverty sometimes we have as a guest, + But tha needn't fear, tha shall share ov the best. +What are fowks' riches to mother an me? + All they have wodn't buy sich a babby as thee. +Aw wor warned i' mi young days 'at weddin browt woe, + 'At labor an worry wod keep a chap low,-- +'At love aght o' th' winder wod varry sooin flee, + When poverty coom in at th' door,--but aw see +Old fowk an old sayins sometimes miss ther mark, + For love shines aght breetest when all raand is dark. +Ther's monny a nobleman, wed an hawf wild, + 'At wod give hawf his fortun to have sich a child. +Then why should we envy his wealth an his lands, + Tho' sarvents attend to obey his commands? +For we have the treasures noa riches can buy, + An aw think we can keep 'em,--at leeast we can try; +An if it should pleeas Him who orders all things, + To call yo away to rest under His wings,-- +Tho' to part wod be hard, yet this comfort is giv'n, + We shall know 'at awr treasures are safe up i' Heaven, +Whear no moth an noa rust can corrupt or destroy, + Nor thieves can braik in, nor troubles annoy. +Blessins on thi! wee thing,--an whativver thi lot, + Tha'rt promised a mansion, tho' born in a cot, +What fate is befoor thi noa mortal can see, + But Christ coom to call just sich childer as thee. +An this thowt oft cheers me, tho' fortun may fraan, + Tha may yet be a jewel to shine in His craan. + + + +Bonny Mary Ann. + + +When but a little toddlin thing, + I'th' heather sweet shoo'd play, +An like a fay on truant wing, + Shoo'd rammel far away; +An even butterflees wod come + Her lovely face to scan, +An th' burds wod sing ther sweetest song, + For bonny Mary Ann. + +Shoo didn't fade as years flew by, + But added day bi day, +Some little touch ov witchery,-- + Some little winnin way. +Her lovely limbs an angel face, + To paint noa mortal can; +Shoo seemed possessed ov ivvery grace, + Did bonny Mary Ann. + +To win her wod be heaven indeed, + Soa off aw went to woo; +Mi tale o' love shoo didn't heed, + Altho' mi heart spake too. +Aw axt, "what wants ta, onnyway?" + Shoo sed, "aw want a man," +Then laffin gay, shoo tript away,-- + Mi bonny Mary Ann. + +Thinks aw, well, aw'll be man enough + To leeav thi to thisen, +Some day tha'll net be quite as chuff, + Aw'll wait an try thi then. +'Twor hard,--it ommost braik mi heart + To carry aght mi plan; +But honestly aw played mi part, + An lost mi Mary Ann. + +For nah shoo's wed an lost yo see, + But oh! revenge is sweet; +Her husband's less bi th' hawf nor me, + His face is like a freet; +An what enticed her aw must own, + To guess noa mortal can; +For what it is, is nobbut known,-- + To him an Mary Ann. + + + +That Christmas Puddin. + + +Ha weel aw remember that big Christmas puddin, +That puddin mooast famous ov all in a year; +When each lad at th' table mud stuff all he could in, +An ne'er have a word ov refusal to fear. +Ha its raand speckled face, craand wi' sprigs o' green holly +Seem'd sweeatin wi' juices ov currans an plums; +An its fat cheeks made ivvery one laff an feel jolly, +For it seem'd like a meetin ov long parted chums, + That big Christmas pudding,--That rich steamin puddin,-- + That scrumptious plum puddin, mi mother had made. + +Ther wor father an mother,--awr Hannah an Mary, +Uncle Tom an ont Nancy, an smart cussin Jim; +An Jim's sister Kitty, as sweet as a fairy,-- +An Sam wi' his fiddle,--we couldn't spare him. +We'd rooast beef an mutton, a gooise full o' stuffin, +Boil'd turnips an taties, an moor o' sich kind; +An fooamin hooam brewed,--why,--aw think we'd enuff in, +To sail a big ship if we'd been soa inclined. + An then we'd that puddin--That thumpin big puddin-- + That rich Christmas puddin, mi mother had made. + +Sam sat next to Mary an Jim tuk awr Hannah, +An Kitty ov coorse had to sit next to me,-- +An th' stuff wor sooin meltin away in a manner, +'At mi mother declared 't wor a pleasur to see. +They wor nowt could be mended, we sed when it ended, +An all seem'd as happy as happy could be; +An aw've nivver repented, for Kitty consented, +An shoo's still breet an bonny an a gooid wife to me. + An aw think o' that puddin,--That fateful plum puddin,-- + That match makkin puddin mi mother had made. + + + +A Bad Sooart. + + +Aw'd rayther face a redwut brick, +Sent flyin at mi heead; +Aw'd rayther track a madman's steps, +Whearivver they may leead; +Aw'd rayther ventur in a den, +An stail a lion's cub; +Aw'd rayther risk the foamin wave +In an old leaky tub. +Aw'd rayther stand i'th' midst o'th' fray, +Whear bullets thickest shower; +Nor trust a mean, black hearted man, +At's th' luck to be i' power. + +A redwut brick may miss its mark, +A madman change his whim; +A lion may forgive a theft; +A leaky tub may swim. +Bullets may pass yo harmless by, +An leeav all safe at last; +A thaasand thunders shake the sky, +An spare yo when they've past. +Yo may o'ercome mooast fell disease; +Mak poverty yo're friend; +But wi' a mean, blackhearted man, +Noa mortal can contend. + +Ther's malice in his kindest smile, +His proffered hand's a snare; +He's plannin deepest villany, +When seemingly mooast fair. +He leads yo on wi' oily tongue, +Swears he's yo're fastest friend; +He get's yo once within his coils, +An crushes yo i'th' end. +Old Nick, we're tell'd, gooas prowlin aght, +An seeks whom to devour; +But he's a saint, compared to some, +'At's th' luk to be i' power. + + + +Fairly Weel-off. + + +Ov whooalsum food aw get mi fill,-- +Ov drink aw seldom want a gill; +Aw've clooas to shield me free throo harm, +Should winds be cold or th' sun be warm. + +Aw rarely have a sickly spell,-- +Mi appetite aw'm fain to tell +Ne'er plays noa scurvy tricks on me, +Nowt ivver seems to disagree. + +Aw've wark, as mich as aw can do,-- +Sometimes aw laik a day or two,-- +Mi wage is nobbut small, but yet, +Aw manage to keep aght o' debt. + +Mi wife, God bless her! ivvery neet +Has slippers warmin for mi feet; +An th' hearthstun cleean, an th' drinkin laid, +An th' teah's brew'd an th' tooast is made. + +An th' childer weshed, an fairly dressed, +Wi' health an happiness are blest; +An th' youngest, tho' aw say't misen, +Is th' grandest babby ivver seen. + +Aw've friends, tho' humble like misen, +They're gradely, upright, workin-men, +They're nooan baght brains oth' sooart they're on;-- +They do what's reight as near's they con. + +Aw tak small stock i' politics, +For lib'ral shams an tooary tricks, +Have made me daat 'em one an all;-- +Ther words are big, but deeds are small. + +Aw goa to th' chapil, yet confess +Aw'm somewhat daatful, moor or less, +For th' chaps at cracks up gloory soa, +Ne'er seem in onny haste to goa. + +To me, religion seems quite plain;-- +Aw cause noa fellow-mortal pain, +Aw do a kind act when aw can, +An hooap to dee an honest man. + +Aw hooap to live till old an gray, +An when th' time comes to goa away, +Aw feel convinced some place ther'll be, +Just fit for sich a chap as me. + +Green fields, an trees, an brooks, an flaars, +Are treasures we can all call awrs, +An when hooam is earth's fairest spot +One should be thankful for his lot. + +Aw'm nooan contented,--nay, net aw! +Aw nivver con be tho' aw try; +But aw enjoy th' gooid things aw have, +An if aw for moor blessins crave, +It's more for th' sake o'th' wife an bairns, +To spare them my life's ups an daans. + +Well, yo may laff, an sneerin say, +Aw'm praad an selfish i' mi way;-- +Maybe aw am,--but yo'll agree, +Ther's few fowk better off nor me. + + + +A Warnin. + + +A'a dear, what it is to be big! + To be big i' one's own estimation, +To think if we shake a lawse leg, + 'At th' world feels a tremblin sensation. +To fancy 'at th' nook 'at we fill, + Wod be empty if we worn't in it, +'At th' universe wheels wod stand still, + If we should neglect things a minnit. + +To be able to tell all we meet, + Just what they should do or leeav undone; +To be crammed full o' wisdom an wit, + Like a college professor throo Lundun. +To show statesmen ther faults an mistaks,-- + To show whear philosifers blunder; +To prove parsons an doctors all quacks, + An strike men o' science wi' wonder. + +But aw've nooaticed, theas varry big men, + 'At strut along th' streets like a bantam, +Nivver do mich 'at meeans owt thersen, + For they're seldom at hand when yo want 'em. +At ther hooam, if yo chonce to call in, + Yo may find 'em booath humble an civil, +Wol th' wife tries to draand th' childer's din, + Bi yellin an raisin the devil. + +A'a dear, what it is to be big! + But a chap 'at's a fooil needn't show it, +For th' rest o'th' world cares net a fig, + An a thaasand to one doesn't know it. +Consait, aw have often heeard say, + Is war for a chap nor consumption, +An aw'll back a plain chap onny day, + To succeed, if he's nobbut some gumpshun. + +My advice to young fowk is to try + To grow honestly better an wiser; +An yo'll find yor reward by-an-by,-- + True merit's its own advertiser. +False colors yo'll seldom find fast, + An a mak-believe is but a bubble, +It's sure to get brussen at last, + An contempt's all yo'll get for yor trouble. + + + +To W. F. Wallett. The Queen's Jester. +Born at Hull, November, 1806. Died at Beeston, near Nottingham, +March 13th, 1892. + + +Wallett, old friend! Thy way's been long;-- + Few livin can luk farther back; +But tha has left, bi jest an song, + A sunny gleam along thy track. +Aw'm nursin nah, mi childer's bairns, + Yet aw remember when a lad, +Sittin an listnin to thy yarns, + An thank thi nah, for th' joys aw had. + +Full monny a lesson, quaintly towt, + Wi' witty phrase, sticks to me still; +Nor can aw call to mind ther's owt + Tha sed or did, to work me ill! +Noa laff tha raised do aw regret,-- + Wit mixed wi' wisdom wor thy plan, +Which had aw heeded, aw admit, + Aw should ha been a better man. + +Aw'd like to meet thee once agean, + An clink awr glasses as of yore, +An hear thi rail at all things meean, + An praise an cheer the honest poor. +Aw'd like to hear th' owd stooaries towld, + 'At nobbut tha knows ha to tell;-- +Unlike thisen they ne'er grow old;-- + A'a dear! Aw'm growin owd misel. + +We'st miss thee, Wallett, when tha goas, + (May that sad time be far away; +For when tha doffs thi motley clooas, + An pays that debt we all mun pay,) +We'st feel ther's one link less to bind, + Us to this 'vain an fleetin show,' +An we'st net tarry long behind,-- + We may goa furst for owt we know. + +Well,--if noa moor aw clasp thi hand,-- + Noa moor enjoy thy social chat,-- +Aw send thi from this distant land, + True friendship's greetin,--This is that. +May ivvery comfort earth can give, + Be thine henceforward to the end, +An tho' the sea divides, believe + Ther's one who's proud to call thee friend. + + + +Lads an Lasses. + + +Lads an lasses lend yor ears + Unto an old man's rhyme, +Dooant hurry by an say wi' sneers, + It's all a waste o' time. +Some little wisdom yo may gain, + Some trewth yo'll ne'er forget: +Soa blame me net for spaikin plain, + Yo'll find it's better net. + +For yo, life's journey may be long, + Or it may end to-day; +Deeath gethers in the young an strong, + Along wi' th' old an gray. +Then nivver do an unkind thing, + Which yo will sure regret, +Nor utter words 'at leeav a sting,-- + Yo'll find it's better net. + +If yo've a duty to get throo, + Goa at it with a will, +Dooant shirk it 'coss it's hard to do, + That mak's it harder still. +Dooant think to-morn is time enuff + For what to-day is set, +Nor trust to others for ther help, + Yo'll find it's better net. + +If little wealth falls to yor share, + Try nivver to repine; +But struggle on wi' thrift an' care,-- + Some day the sun will shine. +It's better to be livin poor, + Than running into debt, +An bavin duns coom to yor door;-- + Yo'll find it's better net. + +When tempted bi some jolly friend, + To join him in a spree, +Remember sich things sometimes end + I' pain an misery. +Be firm an let temptations pass + As if they'd ne'er been met, +An nivver drain the sparklin glass;-- + Yo'll find it's better net. + +Mak trewth an honesty yor guide, + Tho' some may laff an rail, +Fear net, whativver ills betide, + At last yo must prevail. +Contented wi' yor portion be + Nor let yor heart be set, +On things below 'at fade an dee,-- + Yo'll find it's better net. + + + +A New Year's Gift. + + +A little lad,--bare wor his feet, + His 'een wor swell'd an red, +Wor sleepin, one wild New Year's neet,-- + A cold doorstep his bed. +His little curls wor drippin weet, + His clooas wor thin an old, +His face, tho' pinched, wor smilin sweet,-- + His limbs wor numb wi' cold. + +Th' wind whistled throo th' deserted street, + An snowflakes whirled abaat,-- +It wor a sorry sooart o' neet, + For poor souls to be aght. +'Twor varry dark, noa stars or mooin, + Could shine throo sich a storm;-- +Unless some succour turns up sooin, + God help that freezin form! + +A carriage stops at th' varry haase,-- + A sarvent oppens th' door; +A lady wi' a pale sad face, + Steps aght o'th' cooach to th' floor. +Her 'een fell on that huddled form, + Shoo gives a startled cry; +Then has him carried aght o'th' storm, + To whear its warm an dry. + +Shoo tended him wi' jewelled hands, + An monny a tear shoo shed; +For shoo'd once had a darlin lad + But he, alas! wor dead. +This little waif seemed sent to cheer, + An fill her darlin's place; +An to her heart shoo prest him near, + An kissed his little face. + + + +Matty's Reason. + + +"Nah, Matty! what meeans all this fuss? + Tha'rt as back'ard as back'ard can be; +Ther must be some reason, becoss + It used to be diff'rent wi' thee. + +Aw've nooaticed, 'at allus befoor + If aw kussed thi, tha smiled an lukt fain; +Ther's summat nooan reight, lass, aw'm sewer, + Tha seems i' soa gloomy a vein. + +If tha's met wi' a hansomer chap, + Aw'm sewer aw'll net stand i' thi way; +But tha mud get a war, lass, bi th' swap,-- + If tha'rt anxious aw'll nivver say nay. + +But tha knows 'at for monny a wick + Aw've been savin mi brass to get wed; +An aw'd meant thee gooin wi' me to pick + Aght some chairs an a table an bed. + +Aw offer'd mi hand an mi heart; + An tha seemed to be fain to ha booath; +But if its thi wish we should part, + To beg on thi, nah, aw'd be looath. + +An th' warst wish aw wish even yet,-- + Is tha'll nivver get treeated soa meean;-- +Gooid neet, Matty lass, nivver freeat, + Tha'll kuss me when aw ax thi agean." + +"Nah, Jimmy lad, try to be cooil,-- + Mi excuse tha may think is a funny en; +Aw've nowt agean thee, jaylus fooil, + But thi breeath savoors strongly o' oonion." +Wi' wonderin 'een he luk't abaat, + Dazzled wi' th' blaze o' leet, +Then drooped his heead, reight wearied aght + Wi' cold an wind an weet. +Then tenderly shoo tuckt him in + A little cosy bed, +An kissed once moor his cheek soa thin, + An stroked his curly head. + +Noa owner coom to claim her prize, + Tho' mich shoo feear'd ther wod, +It seem'd a blessin dropt throo th' skies + A New Year's gift throo God. +An happiness nah fills her heart, + 'At wor wi' sorrow cleft; +Noa wealth could tempt her nah to part, + Wi' her Heaven sent New Year's gift. +A New Year's Gift. + +A little lad,--bare wor his feet, + His 'een wor swell'd an red, +Wor sleepin, one wild New Year's neet,-- + A cold doorstep his bed. +His little curls wor drippin weet, + His clooas wor thin an old, +His face, tho' pinched, wor smilin sweet,-- + His limbs wor numb wi' cold. + +Th' wind whistled throo th' deserted street, + An snowflakes whirled abaat,-- +It wor a sorry sooart o' neet, + For poor souls to be aght. +'Twor varry dark, noa stars or mooin, + Could shine throo sich a storm;-- +Unless some succour turns up sooin, + God help that freezin form! + +A carriage stops at th' varry haase,-- + A sarvent oppens th' door; +A lady wi' a pale sad face, + Steps aght o'th' cooach to th' floor. +Her 'een fell on that huddled form, + Shoo gives a startled cry; +Then has him carried aght o'th' storm, + To whear its warm an dry. + +Shoo tended him wi' jewelled hands, + An monny a tear shoo shed; +For shoo'd once had a darlin lad + But he, alas! wor dead. +This little waif seemed sent to cheer, + An fill her darlin's place; +An to her heart shoo prest him near, + An kissed his little face. + +Wi' wonderin 'een he luk't abaat, + Dazzled wi' th' blaze o' leet, +Then drooped his heead, reight wearied aght + Wi' cold an wind an weet. +Then tenderly shoo tuckt him in + A little cosy bed, +An kissed once moor his cheek soa thin, + An stroked his curly head. + +Noa owner coom to claim her prize, + Tho' mich shoo feear'd ther wod, +It seem'd a blessin dropt throo th' skies + A New Year's gift throo God. +An happiness nah fills her heart, + 'At wor wi' sorrow cleft; +Noa wealth could tempt her nah to part, + Wi' her Heaven sent New Year's gift. + + + +Uncle Ben. + + +A gradely chap wor uncle Ben + As ivver lived i'th' fowd: +He made a fortun for hissen, + An lived on't when he'r owd. +His yed wor like a snow drift, + An his face wor red an breet, +An his heart wor like a feather, + For he did the thing 'at's reet. + +He wore th' same suit o' fustian clooas + He'd worn sin aw wor bred; +An th' same owd booits, wi' cappel'd tooas, + An th' same hat for his yed; +His cot wor lowly, yet he'd sing + Throo braik o' day till neet; +His conscience nivver felt a sting, + For he did the thing 'at's reet. + +He wod'nt swap his humble state + Wi' th' grandest fowk i'th' land; +He nivver wanted silver plate, + Nor owt 'at's rich an grand; +He did'nt sleep wi' curtained silk + Drawn raand him ov a neet, +But he slept noa war for th' want o' that, + For he'd done the thing 'at's reet. + +Owd fowk called him "awr Benny," + Young fowk, "mi uncle Ben,"-- +An th' childer, "gronfather," or "dad," + Or what best pleased thersen. +A gleam o' joy coom o'er his face + When he heeard ther patterin feet, +For he loved to laik wi th' little bairns + An he did the thing 'at's reet. + +He nivver turned poor fowk away + Uncared for throo his door; +He ne'er forgate ther wor a day + When he hissen wor poor; +An monny a face has turned to Heaven, + All glistenin wi' weet, +An prayed for blessins on owd Ben, + For he did the thing 'at's reet. + +He knew his lease wor ommost spent, + He'd sooin be called away; +Yet he wor happy an content, + An waited th' comin day. +But one dark neet he shut his e'en, + An slept soa calm an sweet, +When mornin coom, th' world held one less, + 'At did the thing 'at's reet. + + + +A Hawporth. + + +Whear is thi Daddy, doy? Whear is thi mam? +What are ta cryin for, poor little lamb? +Dry up thi peepies, pet, wipe thi wet face; +Tears o' thy little cheeks seem aght o' place. +What do they call thi, lad? Tell me thi name; +Have they been ooinion thi? Why, its a shame. +Here, tak this hawpny, an buy thi some spice, +Rocksticks or humbugs or summat 'at's nice. +Then run of hooam agean, fast as tha can; +Thear,--tha'rt all reight agean; run like a man. + +He wiped up his tears wi' his little white brat, +An he tried to say summat, aw couldn't tell what; +But his little face breeten'd wi' pleasure all throo:-- +A'a!--its cappin, sometimes, what a hawpny can do. + + + + +Th' Better Part. + + +A poor owd man wi' tott'ring gait, +Wi' body bent, an snowy pate, + Aw met one day;-- +An daan o'th' rooad side grassy banks +He sat to rest his weary shanks; +An aw, to while away mi time, +O'th' neighbourin hillock did recline, + An bade "gooid day." + +Said aw, "Owd friend, pray tell me true, +If in your heart yo nivver rue + Th' time 'at's past? +Does envy nivver fill yor breast +When passin fowk wi' riches blest? +An do yo nivver think it wrang +At yo should have to trudge along, + Soa poor to th' last?" + +"Young man," he sed, "aw envy nooan; +But ther are times aw pity some, + Wi' all mi heart; +To see what trubbl'd lives they spend, +What cares upon their hands depend; +Then aw in thowtfulness declare +'At 'little cattle little care' + Is th' better part. + +Gold is a burden hard to carry, +An tho' Dame Fortun has been chary + O' gifts to me; +Yet still aw strive to feel content, +An think what is, for th' best is meant; +An th' mooast ov all aw strive for here, +Is still to keep mi conscience clear, + From dark spots free. + +An while some tax ther brains to find +What they'll be foorced to leeav behind, + When th' time shall come; +Aw try bi honest word an deed, +To get what little here aw need, +An live i' hopes at last to say, +When breeath gooas flickerin away, + 'Aw'm gooin hooam.'" + +Aw gave his hand a hearty shake, +It seem'd as tho' the words he spake + Sank i' mi heart: +Aw walk'd away a wiser man, +Detarmined aw wod try his plan +I' hopes at last 'at aw might be +As weel assured ov Heaven as he; + That's th' better part. + + + +Th' Lesser Evil. + + +Young Harry wor a single chap, + An wod have lots o' tin, +An monny a lass had set her cap, + This temptin prize to win. +But Harry didn't want a wife, + He'd rayther far be free; +An soa escape all care an strife + 'At wedded couples see. +But when at last his uncle deed, + An left him all his brass, +'Twor on condition he should wed, + Some honest Yorksher lass. +Soa all his dreamin day an neet + Abaat what sprees he'd have; +He had to bury aght o'th' seet, + Deep in his uncle's grave. +To tak a wife at once, he thowt + Wor th' wisest thing to do, +Soa he lukt raand until he browt + His choice daan between two. +One wor a big, fine, strappin lass, + Her name wor Sarah Ann, +Her height an weight, few could surpass, + Shoo'r fit for onny man. +An t'other wor a little sprite, + Wi' lots o' bonny ways, +An little funny antics, like + A kitten when it plays. +An which to tak he could'nt tell, + He rayther liked 'em booath; +But if he could ha pleased hissen, + To wed one he'd be looath. +A wife he thowt an evil thing, + An sewer to prove a pest; +Soa after sometime studyin + He thowt th' least wod be th' best. +They sooin wor wed, an then he faand + He'd quite enuff to do, +For A'a! shoo wor a twazzy haand, + An tongue enuff for two. +An if he went aght neet or day, + His wife shoo went as weel; +He gat noa chonce to goa astray;-- + Shoo kept him true as steel. +His face grew white, his heead grew bald, + His clooas hung on his rig, +He grew like one 'at's getten stall'd, + Ov this world's whirligig. +One day, he muttered to hissen, + "If aw've pickt th' lesser evil, +Th' poor chap 'at tackles Sarah Ann, + Will wish he'd wed the D---l." + + + +Take Heart! + + +Roughest roads, we often find, + Lead us on to th' nicest places; +Kindest hearts oft hide behind + Some o'th' plainest-lukkin faces. + +Flaars whose colors breetest are, + Oft delight awr wond'ring seet; +But ther's others, humbler far, + Smell a thaasand times as sweet. + +Burds o' monny color'd feather, + Please us as they skim along, +But ther charms all put together, + Connot equal th' skylark's song. + +Bonny women--angels seemin,-- + Set awr hearts an brains o' fire; +But its net ther beauties; beamin, + Its ther gooidness we admire. + +Th' bravest man 'at's in a battle, + Isn't allus th' furst i'th' fray; +He best proves his might an' mettle, + Who remains to win the day. + +Monkey's an vain magpies chatter, + But it doesn't prove 'em wise; +An it's net wi noise an clatter, + Men o' sense expect to rise. + +'Tis'nt them 'at promise freely, + Are mooast ready to fulfill; +An 'tis'nt them 'at trudge on dreely + 'At are last at top o'th' hill. + +Bad hauf-craans may pass as payment, + Gaudy flaars awr e'en beguile; +Women may be loved for raiment, + Show may blind us for a while; + +But we sooin grow discontented, + An for solid worth we sigh, +An we leearn to prize the jewel, + Tho' it's hidden from the eye. + +Him 'at thinks to gether diamonds + As he walks along his rooad, +Nivver need be tired wi' huggin, + For he'll have a little looad. + +Owt 'at's worth a body's winnin + Mun be toiled for long an hard; +An tho' th' struggle may be pinnin, + Perseverance wins reward. + +Earnest thowt, an constant strivin, + Ever wi' one aim i'th' seet; +Tho' we may be late arrivin, + Yet at last we'st come in reet. + +He who WILL succeed, he MUST, + When he's bid false hopes farewell, +If he firmly fix his trust + In his God, and in hissel. + + + +They all do it. + + +They're all buildin nests for thersen, + One bi one they goa fleetin away; +A suitable mate comes,--an then, + I'th' old nest they noa longer can stay. +Well,--it's folly for th' old en's to freeat, + Tho' it's hard to see loved ones depart,-- +An we sigh,--let a tear drop,--an yet, + We bless 'em, an give 'em a start. + +They've battles to feight 'at we've fowt, + They've trubbles an trials to face; +I'th' futer they luk an see nowt + 'At can hamper ther coorse i' life's race. +Th' sun's shinin soa breetly, they think + Sorrow's claads have noa shadow for them, +They walk on uncertainty's brink, + An they see in each teardrop a gem. + +Happy dreams 'at they had long ago, + Too sweet to believe---could be true, +Are realized nah, for _they know_ + Th' world's pleasures wor made for them two. +We _know_ 'at it's all a mistak, + An we pity, an yet we can pray, +'At when th' end comes they'll nivver luk back + Wi' regret to that sweet weddin day. + +God bless 'em! may happiness dwell, + I' ther hearts, tho' they beat in a cot; +An if in a palace,--well,--well,-- + Shall ther young love be ever forgot. +Nay,--nay,--tho' old Time runs his plough, + O'er fair brows an leaves monny a grove; +May they cloiser cling, th' longer they grow, + Till two lives blend i' one sacred love. + +Bless th' bride! wi' her bonny breet e'en! + Bless th' husband, who does weel his part; +Aye! an bless those old fowk where they've been, + The joy an the pride ov ther heart. +May health an prosperity sit + At ther table soa long as they live! +An accept th' gooid wishes aw've writ, + For they're all 'at aw'm able to give. + + + +To Let. + + +Aw live in a snug little cot, +An' tho' poor, yet aw keep aght o' debt, +Cloise by, in a big garden plot, +Stands a mansion, 'at long wor "to let." + +Twelve month sin or somewhear abaat, +A fine lukkin chap donned i' black, +Coom an luk'd at it inside an aght +An decided this mansion to tak. + +Ther wor whiteweshers coom in a drove +An masons, an joiners, an sweeps, +An a blacksmith to fit up a cove, +An bricks, stooans an mortar i' heaps. + +Ther wor painters, an glazzeners too, +To mend up each bit ov a braik, +An a lot 'at had nowt else to do, +But to help some o'th t'others to laik. + +Ther wor fires i' ivvery range, +They nivver let th' harston get cooiled, +Throo th' cellar to th' thack they'd a change, +An ivverything all in a mooild. + +Th' same chap 'at is th' owner o'th' Hall, +Is th' owner o'th' cot whear aw dwell, +But if aw ax for th' leeast thing at all; +He tells me to do it mysel. + +This hall lets for fifty a year, +Wol five paand is all 'at aw pay; +When th' day come mi rent's allus thear, +An that's a gooid thing in its way. + +At th' last all th' repairers had done, +An th' hall wor as cleean as a pin, +Aw wor pleased when th' last lot wor gooan, +For aw'd getten reight sick o' ther din. + +Then th' furnitur started to come, +Waggon looads on it, all spankin new, +Rich crimson an gold covered some, +Wol some shone i' scarlet an blue. + +Ov sofas aw think hauf a scoor, +An picturs enuff for a show? +They fill'd ivvery corner aw'm sure, +Throo th' garret to th' kitchen below. + +One day when a cab drove to th' gate, +Th' new tenant stept aght, an his wife, +(An tawk abaat fashion an state! +Yo ne'er saw sich a spreead i' yor life.) + +Ther war sarvents to curtsey 'em in, +An aw could'nt help sayin, "bi th' mass;" +As th' door shut when they'd booath getten in, +"A'a, it's grand to ha plenty o' brass." + +Ther wor butchers, an bakers, an snobs, +An grocers, an milkmen, an snips, +All seekin for orders an jobs, +An sweetenin th' sarvents wi' tips. + +Aw sed to th' milk-chap 'tother day, +"Ha long does ta trust sich fowk, Ike? +Each wick aw'm expected to pay," +"Fine fowk," he says, "pay when they like." + +Things went on like this, day bi day, +For somewhear cloise on for a year; +Wol aw ne'er thowt o' lukkin that way, +Altho' aw wor livin soa near. + +But one neet when aw'd finished mi wark, +An wor tooastin mi shins anent th' fire, +A chap rushes in aght 'o'th' dark +Throo heead to fooit plaistered wi' mire. + +Says he, "does ta know whear they've gooan?" +Says aw, "Lad, pray, who does ta meean?" +"Them at th' hall," he replied, wi a grooan, +"They've bolted an diddled us cleean." + +Aw tell'd him aw'd ne'er heeard a word, +He cursed as he put on his hat, +An he sed, "well, they've flown like a burd, +An paid nubdy owt, an that's what." + +He left, an aw crept off to bed, +Next day aw'd a visit throo Ike, +But aw shut up his maath when aw sed, +"Fine fowk tha knows pay when they like." + +Ther's papers i'th' winders, "to let," +An aw know varry weel ha 't 'll be; +They'll do th' same for th' next tenant awl bet, +Tho they ne'er do a hawpoth for me. + +But aw let 'em do just as they pleease, +Aw'm content tho' mi station is low, +An awm thankful sich hard times as thease +If aw manage to pay what aw owe. + +This precept, friends, nivver forget, +For a wiser one has not been sed, +Be detarmined to rise aght o' debt +Tho' yo go withaat supper to bed. + + + +Lost Love. + + +Shoo wor a bonny, bonny lass, + Her e'en as black as sloas; +Her hair a flyin thunner claad, + Her cheeks a blowin rooas. +Her smile coom like a sunny gleam + Her cherry lips to curl; +Her voice wor like a murm'ring stream + 'At flowed throo banks o' pearl. + + Aw long'd to claim her for mi own, + But nah mi love is crost; + An aw mun wander on alooan, + An mourn for her aw've lost. + +Aw could'nt ax her to be mine, + Wi' poverty at th' door: +Aw nivver thowt breet e'en could shine + Wi' love for one so poor; +*/ 92 */ +But nah ther's summat i' mi breast, + Tells me aw miss'd mi way: +An lost that lass I loved the best + Throo fear shoo'd say me nay. + + Aw long'd to claim her for, &c. + +Aw saunter'd raand her cot at morn, + An oft i'th' dark o'th' neet, +Aw've knelt mi daan i'th' loin to find + Prints ov her tiny feet. +An under th' window, like a thief, + Aw've crept to hear her spaik; +An then aw've hurried hooam agean + For fear mi heart wod braik. + + Aw long'd to claim her for, &c. + +Another bolder nor misen, + Has robb'd me o' mi dear; +An nah aw ne'er may share her joy, + An ne'er may dry her tear. +But tho' aw'm heartsick, lone, an sad, + An tho' hope's star is set; +To know shoo's lov'd as aw'd ha lov'd + Wod mak me happy yet. + + Aw long'd to claim her for mi own, &c. + + + +Drink. + + +When yo see a chap covered wi' rags, + An hardly a shoe to his fooit, +Gooin sleawshin along ovver th' flags, + Wi' a pipe in his maath black as sooit; +An he tells yo he's aght ov a job, + An he feels wellny likely to sink,-- +An he hasn't a coin in his fob, + Yo may guess what he's seekin--it's Drink. + +If a woman yo meet, poorly dressed, + Untidy, an spoortin black e'en; +Wi' a babby hawf clammed at her breast, + Neglected an shame-to-be-seen; +If yo ax, an shoo'll answer yo true, + What's th' cause of her trouble? Aw think, +Yo'll find her misfortuns are due + To that warst o' all enemies,--Drink. + +Ax th' wretches convicted o' crime, + What caused 'em to plunge into sin, +An they'll say ommost ivvery time, + It's been th' love o' rum, whisky or gin. +Even th' gallus, if it could but tell + Ov its victims dropt ovver life's brink; +It wod add a sad lot moor to swell + The list ov those lost throo strong Drink. + +Yet daily we thowtlessly pass, + The hell-traps 'at stand like a curse; +Bedizened wi' glitter an glass, + To mak paupers, an likely do worse. +Some say 'at th' millenium's near, + But they're reckonin wrang aw should think, +When they fancy the King will appear, + In a world soa besotted wi' Drink. + + + +Duffin Johnny. (A Rifleman's Adventure.) + + +Th' mooin shone breet wi' silver leet, + An th' wind wor softly sighin; +Th' burds did sleep, an th' snails did creep, + An th' buzzards wor a flying; +Th' daisies donned ther neet caps on, + An th' buttercups wor weary, +When Jenny went to meet her John, + Her Rifleman, her dearie. + +Her Johnny seemed as brave a lad + As iver held a rifle, +An if ther wor owt in him bad, + 'Twor nobbut just a trifle. +He wore a suit o' sooity grey, + To show 'at he wor willin +To feight for th' Queen and country + When perfect in his drillin. + +His heead wor raand, his back wor straight, + His legs wor long an steady, +His fist wor fully two pund weight, + His heart wor true an ready; +His upper lip wor graced at th' top + Wi' mustache strong an bristlin, +It railly wor a spicy crop; + Yo'd think to catch him whistlin. + +His buzzum burned wi' thowts o' war, + He long'd for battles' clatter, +He grieved to think noa foeman dar + To cross that sup o' watter; +He owned one spot,--an nobbut one, + Within his heart wor tender, +An as his darlin had it fun, + He'd be her bold defender. + +At neet he donn'd his uniform, + War trials to endure, +An helped his comrades brave, to storm + A heap ov horse manure! +They said it wor a citidel, + Fill'd wi' some hostile power, +They boldly made a breach, and well + They triumph'd in an hour. + +They did'nt wade to th' knees i' blooid, + (That spoils one's britches sadly,) +But th' pond o' sypins did as gooid, + An scented 'em as badly; +Ther wor noa slain to hug away, + Noa heeads, noa arms wor wantin, +They lived to feight another day, + An spend ther neets i' rantin. + +Brave Johnny's rooad wor up a loin + Where all wor dark an shaded, +Part grass, part stooans, part sludge an slime + But quickly on he waded; +An nah an then he cast his e'e + An luk'd behund his shoulder. +He worn't timid, noa net he! + He crack'd, "he knew few bolder." + +But once he jumped, an sed "Oh dear!" + Becoss a beetle past him; +But still he wor unknown to fear, + He'd tell yo if yo asked him. +He could'nt help for whispering once, + "This loin's a varry long un, +A chap wod have but little chonce + Wi thieves, if here amang 'em." + +An all at once he heeard a voice + Cry out, "Stand and deliver! +Your money or your life, mak choice, + Before your brains I shiver;" +He luk'd all raand, but failed to see + A sign of livin craytur, +Then tremlin dropt upon his knee, + Fear stamp'd on ivvery faytur. + +"Gooid chap," he said, "mi rifle tak, + Mi belts, mi ammunition, +Aw've nowt but th' clooas 'at's o' mi back + Oh pity mi condition; +Aw wish aw'd had a lot o' brass, + Aw'd gie thi ivvery fardin; +Aw'm nobbut goin to meet a lass, + At Tate's berry garden." + +"Aw wish shoo wor, aw dooant care where, + Its her fault aw've to suffer;" +Just then a whisper in his ear + Said, "Johnny, thar't a duffer," +He luk'd, an' thear cloise to him stuck + Wor Jenny, burst wi' lafter; +"A'a, John," shoo says, "Aw've tried thi pluck, + Aw'st think o' this at after." + +"An when tha tells what things tha'll do, + An booasts o' manly courage, +Aw'st tell thi then, as nah aw do, + Go hooam an get thi porrige." +"Why Jenny wor it thee," he sed, + "Aw fancied aw could spy thi, +Aw nobbut reckoned to be flaid, + Aw did it but to try thi." + +"Just soa," shoo says, "but certain 'tis + Aw hear thi heart a beatin, +An tak this claat to wipe thi phiz, + Gooid gracious, ha tha'rt sweeatin. +Thar't brave noa daat, an tha can crow + Like booastin cock-a-doodle, +But nooan sich men for me, aw vow, + When wed, aw'll wed a 'noodle.'" + + + +Plenty o' Brass. + + +A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass! + It's grand to be able to spend +A trifle sometimes on a glass + For yorsen, or sometimes for a friend. +To be able to bury yor neive + Up to th' shackle i' silver an' gowd, +An, 'baght pinchin, be able to save + A wee bit for th' time when yo're owd. + +A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass! + To be able to set daan yor fooit +Withaat ivver thinkin--bi'th' mass! + 'At yo're wearin' soa much off yor booit. +To be able to walk along th' street, + An stand at shop windows to stare, +An net ha to beat a retreat + If yo scent a "bum bailey" i'th' air. + +A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass! + To be able to goa hooam at neet, +An sit i'th' arm-cheer bi'th' owd lass, + An want nawther foir nor leet. +To tak th' childer a paper o' spice, + Or a pictur' to hing up o' th' wall; +Or a taste ov a summat 'at's nice + For yor friends, if they happen to call. + +A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass! + Then th' parsons'll know where yo live; +If yo're poor, it's mooast likely they'll pass, + An call where fowk's summat to give. +Yo may have a trifle o' sense, + An yo may be booath upright an trew, +But that's nowt, if yo can't stand th' expense + Ov a whole or a pairt ov a pew. + +A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass! + An to them fowk 'at's getten a hooard, +This world seems as smooth as a glass, + An ther's flaars o' booath sides o'th' rooad; +But him 'at's as poor as a maase, + Or, happen, a little i' debt, +He mun point his nooas up to th' big haase, + An be thankful for what he can get. + +A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' chink! + But dooan't let it harden yor heart: +Yo 'at's blessed wi' abundance should think + An try to do gooid wi' a part! +An then, as yo're totterin' daan, + An th' last grains o' sand are i'th glass, +Yo may find 'at yo've purchased a craan + Wi' makkin gooid use o' yor brass. + + + +The New Year's Resolve. + + +Says Dick, "ther's a nooation sprung up i' mi yed, + For th' furst time i'th' whole coorse o' mi life, +An aw've takken a fancy aw'st like to be wed, + If aw knew who to get for a wife. + +Aw dooant want a woman wi' beauty, nor brass, + For aw've nawther to booast on misel; +What aw want is a warm-hearted, hard-workin lass, + An ther's lots to be fun, aw've heeard tell. + +To be single is all weel enuff nah an then, + But it's awk'ard when th' weshin day comes; +For aw nivver think sooapsuds agree weel wi' men; + They turn all mi ten fingers to thumbs. + +An aw'm sure it's a fact, long afoor aw get done, + Aw'm slopt throo mi waist to mi fit; +An th' floor's in a pond, as if th' peggy-tub run, + An mi back warks as if it 'ud split. + +Aw fancied aw'st manage at breead-bakin best; + Soa one day aw bethowt me to try, +But aw gate soa flustered, aw ne'er thowt o'th' yeast, + Soa aw mud as weel offered to fly. + +Aw did mak a dumplin, but a'a! dear a me! + Abaght that lot aw hardly dar think; +Aw ne'er fan th' mistak till aw missed th' sooap, yo see, + An saw th' suet i'th' sooap-box o'th' sink. + +But a new-year's just startin, an soa aw declare + Aw'll be wed if a wife's to be had; +For mi clooas is soa ragg'd woll aw'm ommost hauf bare, + An thease mullucks, they're drivin me mad. + +Soa, if yo should know, or should chonce to hear tell, + Ov a lass 'at to wed is inclined, +Talegraft me at once, an aw'll see her misel, + Afoor shoo can alter her mind." + + + +A Strange Stooary. + + +Aw know some fowk will call it crime, + To put sich stooaries into ryhme, +But yet, contentedly aw chime + Mi simple ditty: +An if it's all a waste o' time, + The moor's the pity. + + ------- + +O'er Wibsey Slack aw coom last neet, +Wi' reekin heead and weary feet, +A strange, strange chap, aw chonced to meet; + He made mi start; +But pluckin up, aw did him greet + Wi' beatin heart. + +His dress wor black as black could be, +An th' latest fashion aw could see, +But yet they hung soa dawderly, + Like suits i' shops; +Bi'th' heart! yo mud ha putten three + Sich legs i'th' slops. + +Says aw, "Owd trump, it's rayther late +For one 'at's dress'd i' sich a state, +Across this Slack to mak ther gate: + Is ther some pairty? +Or does ta allus dress that rate-- + Black duds o'th' wairty?" + +He twisted raand as if to see +What sooart o' covy aw could be, +An grinned wi' sich a maath at me, + It threw me sick! +"Lor saves!" aw cried, "an is it thee + 'At's call'd owd Nick?" + +But when aw luk'd up into th' place, +Whear yo'd expect to find a face; +A awful craytur met mi gaze, + It took mi puff: +"Gooid chap," aw sed, "please let me pass, + Aw've seen enuff!" + +Then bendin cloise daan to mi ear, +He tell'd me 'at aw'd nowt to fear, +An soa aw stop't a bit to hear + What things he'd ax; +But as he spake his teeth rang clear, + Like knick-a-nacks. + +"A'a, Jack," he sed, "aw'm cap't wi' thee +Net knowin sich a chap as me; +For oft when tha's been on a spree, + Aw've been thear too; +But tho' aw've reckon'd safe o' thee, + Tha's just edged throo. + +Mi name is Deeath--tha needn't start, +An put thi hand upon thi heart, +For tha may see 'at aw've noa dart + Wi' which to strike; +Let's sit an tawk afoor we part, + O'th edge o'th dyke." + +"Nay, nay, that tale wea'nt do, owd lad, +For Bobby Burns tells me tha had +A scythe hung o'er thi shoulder, Gad! + Tha worn't dress'd +I' fine black clooath; tha wore a plad + Across thi breast!" + +"Well, Jack," he said, "thar't capt no daat +To find me wanderin abaght; +But th' fact is, lad, 'at aw'm withaat + A job to do; +Mi scythe aw've had to put up th' spaat, + Mi arrows too." + +"Yo dunnot mean to tell to me, +'At fowk noa moor will ha to dee?" +"Noa, hark a minnit an tha'll see + When th' truth aw tell! +Fowk do withaat mi darts an me, + Thev kill thersel. + +They do it too at sich a rate +Wol mi owd system's aght o' date; +What we call folly, they call fate; + An all ther pleasur +Is ha to bring ther life's estate + To th' shortest measur. + +They waste ther time, an waste ther gains, +O' stuff 'at's brew'd throo poisoned grains, +Throo morn to neet they keep ther brains, + For ivver swimmin, +An if a bit o' sense remains, + It's fun i'th wimmen. + +Tha'll find noa doctors wi ther craft, +Nor yet misen wi' scythe or shaft, +E'er made as monny deead or daft, + As Gin an Rum, +An if aw've warn'd fowk, then they've lafft + At me, bi gum! + +But if they thus goa on to swill, +They'll not want Wilfrid Lawson's bill, +For give a druffen chap his fill, + An sooin off pops he; +An teetotal fowk moor surely still, + Will dee wi' th' dropsy. + +It's a queer thing 'at sich a nation +Can't use a bit o' moderation; +But one lot rush to ther damnation + Throo love o'th' bottle: +Wol others think to win salvation + Wi' bein teetotal." + +Wi' booany neive he stroked mi heead, +"Tak my advice, young chap," he sed, +"Let liquors be, sup ale asteead, + An tha'll be better, +An dunnot treat th' advice tha's heard + Like a deead letter." + +"Why Deeath," aw sed, "fowk allus say, +Yo come to fotch us chaps away! +But this seems strange, soa tell me pray, + Ha wor't yo coom? +Wor it to tell us keep away, + Yo hav'nt room?" + +"Stop whear tha art, Jack, if tha dar +But tha'll find spirits worse bi far +Sarved aght i' monny a public bar, + 'At's thowt quite lawful; +Nor what tha'll find i'th' places parsons call soa awful." + +"Gooid bye!" he sed, an off he shot, +Leavin behind him sich a lot +O' smook, as blue as it wor hot! + It set me stewin! +Soa hooam aw cut, an' gate a pot + Ov us own brewin. + + --------- + +If when yo've read this stooary throo, +Yo daat if it's exactly true, +Yo'll nobbut do as others do, + Yo may depend on't. +Blow me! aw ommost daat it too, + So thear's an end on't. + + + +What Wor it? + + +What wor it made me love thee, lass? + Aw connot tell; +Aw know it worn't for thi brass;-- + Tho' poor misel +Aw'd moor nor thee, aw think, if owt, +An what _aw_ had wor next to nowt. + +Aw didn't love thi 'coss thi face + Wor fair to see: +For tha wor th' plainest lass i'th' place, + An as for me, +They called me "nooasy," "long-legs," "walkin prop," +An sed aw freetened customers throo th' shop. + +Aw used to read i' Fairy books + Ov e'en soa breet, +Ov gowden hair, angelic looks, + An smiles soa sweet; +Aw used to fancy when aw'd older grown, +Aw'd claim some lovely Fairy for mi own. + +An weel aw recollect that neet,-- + 'Twor th' furst o'th' year, +Aw tuk thi hooam, soaked throo wi' sleet, + An aw'd a fear +Lest th' owd man's clog should give itsen a treat, +An be too friendly wi' mi britches seeat. + +What fun they made, when we went in;-- + They cried, "Yo're catched!" +An then thi mother sed i'th' midst o'th' din + "They're fairly matched, +An beauty's in th' beholder's e'e they say, +An they've booath been gooid childer, onyway." + +An then aw saw a little tear, + Unbidden flow, +That settled it!--for then an thear + Aw seemed to know, +'At we wor meant to share each others lot, +An Fancy's Fairies all could goa to pot. + +Full thirty years have rolled away, + Sin that rough time; +What won mi love aw connot say, + But this is mine, +To know, mi greatest prize on earth is thee, +But pray, whativver made thee fancy me? + + + +Billy Bumble's Bargain. + + +Young Billy Bumble bowt a pig, + Soa aw've heeard th' neighbors say; +An monny a mile he had to trig + One sweltin' summer day; +But Billy didn't care a fig, + He sed he'd mak it pay; +He _knew_ it wor a bargain, + An he cared net who said nay. + +He browt it hooam to Ploo Croft loin, + But what wor his surprise +To find all th' neighbors standing aght, + We oppen maaths an eyes; +"By gow!" sed Billy, to hissen, + "This pig _must_ be a prize!" +An th' wimmen cried, "Gooid gracious fowk + But isn't it a size?" + +Then th' chaps sed, "Billy, where's ta been? + Whativver has ta browt? +That surely isn't crayture, lad, + Aw heeard 'em say tha'd bowt? +It luks moor like a donkey, + Does ta think 'at it con rawt?" +But Billy crack'd his carter's whip. + An answered 'em wi' nowt. + +An reight enuff it wor a pig, + If all they say is true, +Its length wor five foot eight or nine, + Its height wor four foot two; +An when it coom to th' pig hoil door, + He couldn't get it throo, +Unless it went daan ov its knees, + An that it wodn't do. + +Then Billy's mother coom to help, + An hit it wi' a mop; +But thear it wor, an thear it seem'd + Detarmined it 'ud stop; +But all at once it gave a grunt, + An oppen'd sich a shop; +An finding aght 'at it wor lick'd, + It laup'd cleean ovver th' top. + +His mother then shoo shook her heead, + An pool'd a woeful face; +"William," shoo sed, "tha should'nt bring + Sich things as theas to th' place. +Aw hooap tha art'nt gooin to sink + Thi mother i' disgrace; +But if tha buys sich things as thease + Aw'm feared it will be th' case!" + +"Nah, mother, nivver freat," sed Bill, + "Its one aw'm gooin to feed, +Its rayther long i'th' legs, aw know, + But that's becoss o'th' breed; +If its a trifle long i'th' grooin, + Why hang it! nivver heed! +Aw know its net a beauty, + _But its cheap, it is, indeed!"_ + +"Well time 'ul try," his mother sed,-- + An time at last did try; +For nivver sich a hungry beeast + Had been fed in a sty. +"What's th' weight o'th' long legged pig, Billy!" + Wor th' neighbors' daily cry; +"Aw connot tell yo yet," sed Bill, + "Aw'll weigh it bye an bye." + +An hard poor Billy persevered, + But all to noa avail, +It swallow'd all th' mait it could get, + An wod ha swallow'd th' pail; +But Billy tuk gooid care to stand + O'th' tother side o'th' rail; +But fat it didn't gain as mich + As what 'ud greeas its tail. + +Pack after pack o' mail he bowt, + Until he'd bowt fourteen; +But net a bit o' difference + I'th' pig wor to be seen: +Its legs an snowt wor just as long + As ivver they had been; +Poor Billy caanted rib bi rib + An heaved a sigh between. + +One day he mix'd a double feed, + An put it into th' troff; +"Tha greedy lukkin beeast," he sed, + "Aw'll awther stawl thee off, +Or else aw'll brust thi hide--that is + Unless 'at its to toff!" +An then he left it wol he went + His mucky clooas to doff. + +It worn't long befoor he coom + To see hah matters stood; +He luk'd at th' troff, an thear it wor, + Five simple bits o' wood, +As cleean scraped aght as if it had + Ne'er held a bit o' food; +"Tha slotch!" sed Bill, "aw do believe + Tha'd ait me if tha could." + +Next day he browt a butcher, + For his patience had been tried, +An wi a varry deeal to do, + Its legs wi' rooap they tied; +An then his shinin knife he drew + An stuck it in its side-- +It mud ha been a crockadile, + Bi th' thickness ov its hide. + +But blooid began to flow, an then + Its long legg'd race wor run; +They scalded, scraped, an hung it up, + An when it all wor done, +Fowk coom to guess what weight it wor, + An monny a bit o' fun +They had, for Billy's mother sed, + "It ought to weigh a ton." + +Billy wor walkin up an daan, + Dooin nowt but fume an fidge! +He luk'd at th' pig--then daan he set, + I'th nook o'th' window ledge, +He saw th' back booan wor stickin aght, + Like th' thin end ov a wedge; +It luk'd like an owd blanket + Hung ovver th' winterhedge. + +His mother rooar'd an th' wimmen sigh'd, + But th' chaps did nowt but laff; +Poor Billy he could hardly bide, + To sit an hear ther chaff-- +Then up he jumped, an off he run, + But whear fowk nivver knew; +An what wor th' war'st, when mornin coom, + Th' deead pig had mizzled too. + +Th' chaps wander'd th' country far an near, + Until they stall'd thersen; +But nawther Billy nor his pig + Coom hooam agean sin then; +But oft fowk say, i'th' deead o'th' neet, + Near Shibden's ruined mill, +The gooast o' Billy an his pig + May be seen runnin still. + +MORAL. + +Yo fowk 'at's tempted to goa buy + Be careful what yo do; +Dooant be persuaded 'coss "it's _cheap_," + For if yo do yo'll rue; +Dooant think its lowerin to yor sen + To ax a friend's advice, +Else like poor Billy's pig, 't may be + Bowt dear at onny price. + + + +Aght o' Wark. + + +Aw've been laikin for ommost eight wick, + An aw can't get a day's wark to do! +Aw've trailed abaat th' streets, wol aw'm sick + An aw've worn mi clog-soils ommost throo. + +Aw've a wife an three childer at hooam, + An aw know they're all lukkin at th' clock, +For they think it's high time aw should come, + An bring 'em a morsel 'o jock. + +A'a dear! it's a pitiful case + When th' cubbord is empty an bare; +When want's stamped o' ivvery face, + An yo hav'nt a meal yo can share. + +Today as aw walked into th' street, + Th' squire's carriage went rattlin past; +An aw thowt 'at it hardly luk'd reet, + For aw had'nt brokken mi fast. + +Them horses, aw knew varry weel, + Wi' ther trappins all shinin i' gold, +Had nivver known th' want of a meal, + Or a shelter to keep 'em throo th' cold. + +Even th' dogs have enuff an to spare, + Tho' they ne'er worked a day i' ther life; +But ther maisters forget they should care + For a chap 'at's three bairns an a wife. + +They give dinners at th' hall ivvery neet, + An ther's carriages standin bi'th' scooar, +An all th' windows are blazin wi' leet, + But they seldom give dinners to th' poor. + +I' mi pocket aw hav'nt a rap, + Nor a crust, nor a handful o' mail; +An unless we can get it o'th' strap, + We mun pine, or mun beg, or else stail. + +But hooam'ards aw'll point mi owd clogs + To them three little lambs an ther dam;-- +Aw wish they wor horses or dogs, + For its nobbut poor fowk 'at's to clam. + +But they say ther is One 'at can see, + An has promised to guide us safe throo; +Soa aw'll live on i'hopes, an' surelee, + He'll find a chap summat to do. + + + +That's a Fact. + + +"A'a Mary aw'm glad 'at that's thee! +Aw need thy advice, lass, aw'm sure;-- +Aw'm all ov a mooild tha can see, +Aw wor nivver i' this way afoor. +Aw've net slept a wink all th' neet throo; +Aw've been twirlin abaat like a worm, +An' th' blankets gate felter'd, lass, too-- +Tha nivver saw cloas i' sich form. +Aw'll tell thee what 't all wor abaght-- +But promise tha'll keep it reight squat; +For aw wod'nt for th' world let it aght, +But aw can't keep it in--tha knows that. +We'd a meetin at th' schooil yesterneet, +An Jimmy wor thear,--tha's seen Jim? +An he hutch'd cloise to me in a bit, +To ax me for th' number o'th' hymn; +Aw thowt 't wor a gaumless trick, +For he heeard it geen aght th' same as me; +An he just did th' same thing tother wick,-- +It made fowk tak nooatice, dos't see. +An when aw wor gooin towards hooam, +Aw heeard som'dy comin behund: +'Twor pitch dark, an aw thowt if they coom, +Aw should varry near sink into th' graund. +Aw knew it wor Jim bi his traid, +An aw tried to get aght ov his gate; +But a'a! tha minds, lass, aw wor flaid, +Aw wor nivver i' sich en a state. +Then aw felt som'dy's arm raand my shawl, +An aw said, "nah, leeav loise or aw'll screeam! +Can't ta let daycent lasses alooan, +Consarn thi up! what does ta mean?" +But he stuck to mi arm like a leach, +An he whispered a word i' mi ear; +It tuk booath mi breeath an mi speech, +For aw'm varry sooin thrown aght o' gear. +Then he squeezed me cloise up to his sel, +An he kussed me, i' spite o' mi teeth: +Aw says, "Jimmy, forshame o' thisel!" +As sooin as aw'd getten mi breeath. +But he wod'nt be quiet, for he sed +'At he'd loved me soa true an soa long-- +Aw'd ha geen a ear off o' my ye'd +To get loise--but tha knows he's soa strong.-- +Then he tell'd me he wanted a wife, +An he begged 'at aw wodn't say nay;-- +Aw'd ne'er heeard sich a tale i' mi life, +Aw wor fesen'd whativver to say; +'Coss tha knows aw've a likin for Jim; +But yo can't allus say what yo meean; +For aw tremb'ld i' ivvery limb, +Wol he kussed me agean an agean. +But at last aw began to give way, +For, raylee, he made sich a fuss, +An aw kussed him an all--for they say, +Ther's nowt costs mich less nor a kuss. +Then he left me at th' end o' awr street, +An aw've felt like a fooil all th' neet throo; +But if aw should see him to neet, +What wod ta advise me to do? +But dooant spaik a word--tha's noa need, +For aw've made up mi mind ha to act, +For he's th' grandest lad ivver aw seed, +An aw like him th' best too--that's a fact!" + + + +Babby Burds. + + +Aw wander'd aght one summer's morn, +Across a meadow newly shorn; +Th' sun wor shinin breet and clear, +An fragrant scents rose up i'th' air, + An all wor still. +When, as my steps wor idly rovin, +Aw coom upon a seet soa lovin! +It fill'd mi heart wi' tender feelin, +As daan aw sank beside it, kneelin + O'th' edge o'th' hill. + +It wor a little skylark's nest, +An two young babby burds, undrest, +Wor gapin wi' ther beaks soa wide, +Callin for mammy to provide + Ther mornin's meal; +An high aboon ther little hooam, +Th' saand o' daddy's warblin coom; +Ringin soa sweetly o' mi ear, +Like breathins throo a purer sphere, + He sang soa weel. + +Ther mammy, a few yards away, +Wor hoppin on a bit o' hay; +Too feeard to coom, too bold to flee; +An watchin me wi' troubled e'e, + Shoo seem'd to say: +"Dooant touch my bonny babs, young man! +Ther daddy does the best he can +To cheer yo with his sweetest song; +An thoase 'll sing as weel, ere long, + Soa let 'em stay." + +"Tha needn't think aw'd do 'em harm-- +Come shelter 'em and keep 'em warm! +For aw've a little nest misel, +An two young babs, aw'm praad to tell, + 'At's precious too; +An they've a mammy watching thear, +'At howds them little ens as dear, +An dearer still, if that can be, +Nor what thease youngens are to thee, + Soa come,--nah do! + +"A'a well!--tha'rt shy, tha hops away,-- +Tha doesn't trust a word aw say; +Tha thinks aw'm here to rob an plunder, +An aw confess aw dunnot wonder-- + But tha's noa need; +Aw'll leave yo to yorsels,--gooid bye! +For nah aw see yor daddy's nigh; +He's dropt that strain soa sweet and strong; +He loves yo better nor his song-- + He does indeed." + +Aw walk'd away, and sooin mi ear +Caught up the saand o' warblin clear; +Thinks aw, they're happy once agean; +Aw'm glad aw didn't prove so meean + To rob that nest; +For they're contented wi' ther lot, +Nor envied me mi little cot; +An in this world, as we goa throo, +It is'nt mich gooid we can do, + An do awr best. + +Then let us do as little wrong +To onny as we pass along, +An never seek a joy to gain +'At's purchased wi' another's pain, + It isn't reet. +Aw shall goa hooam wi' leeter heart, +To mend awr Johnny's little cart: +(He allus finds me wark enuff +To piecen up his brocken stuff, + For ivvery neet.) + +An Sally--a'a! if yo could see her! +When aw sit daan to get mi teah, +Shoo puts her dolly o' mi knee, +An maks me sing it "Hush a bee," + I'th' rocking chear; +Then begs some sugar for it too; +What it can't ait shoo tries to do; +An turnin up her cunnin e'e, +Shoo rubs th' doll maath, an says, "yo see, + It gets its share." + +Sometimes aw'm rayther cross, aw fear! +Then starts a little tremblin tear, +'At, like a drop o' glitt'rin dew +Swimmin within a wild flaar blue, + Falls fro ther e'e; +But as the sun in April shaars +Revives the little droopin flaars, +A kind word brings ther sweet smile back: +Aw raylee think mi brain ud crack + If they'd ta dee. + +Then if aw love my bairns soa weel, +May net a skylark's bosom feel +As mich consarn for th' little things +'At snooze i'th' shelter which her wings + Soa weel affoards? +If fowk wod nobbut bear i' mind +How mich is gained by bein kind; +Ther's fewer breasts wi' grief ud swell, +An fewer fowk ud thoughtless mell + Even o'th' burds. + + + +Queen ov Skircoit Green. + + +Have yo seen mi bonny Mary, + Shoo lives at Skircoit Green; +An old fowk say a fairer lass + Nor her wor nivver seen. +An th' young ens say shoo's th' sweetest flaar, + 'At's bloomin thear to-day; +An one an all are scared to deeath, + Lest shoo should flee away. + +Shoo's health an strength an beauty too, + Shoo's grace an style as weel: +An what's moor precious far nor all, + Her heart is true as steel. +Shoo's full ov tenderness an love, + For onny in distress; +Whearivver sorrows heaviest prove, + Shoo's thear to cheer an bless. + +Her fayther's growin old an gray, + Her mother's wellny done; +But in ther child they find a stay, + As life's sands quickly run. +Her smilin face like sunshine comes, + To chase away ther cares, +An peeace an comfort allus dwells, + In that dear hooam ov theirs. + +Each Sundy morn shoo's off to schooil, + To taich her Bible class; +An meets a smilin welcome, + From ivvery lad an lass; +An when they sing some old psalm tune, + Her voice rings sweet an clear, +It saands as if an angel's tongue, + Had joined in worship thear. + +Aw sometimes see her safely hooam, + An oft aw've tried to tell, +That precious saycret ov a hooap + 'At in mi heart does dwell. +But when aw've seen the childlike trust, + 'At glances throo her e'e, +To spaik ov love aw nivver durst;-- + Shoo's far too gooid for me. + +But to grow worthy ov her love, + Is what aw meean to try; +An time may my affection prove,-- + An win her bye-an-bye. +Then aw shall be the happiest chap + 'At Yorksher's ivver seen, +An some fine day aw'll bear away, + The Queen ov Skircoit Green. + + + +Th' Little Black Hand. + + +Ther's a spark just o'th tip o' mi pen, +An it may be poetical fire: +An suppoase 'at it is'nt--what then? +Wod yo bawk a chap ov his desire? + +Aw'm detarmined to scribble away-- +Soa's them 'at's a fancy con read; +An tho' aw turn neet into day, +If aw'm suitin an odd en, ne'er heed! + +Aw own ther's mich pleasure i' life; +But then ther's abundance o' care, +An them 'at's contented wi' strife +May allus mak sure o' ther share. + +But aw'll laff woll mi galluses braik,-- +Tho mi bed's net as soft as spun silk; +An if butter be aght o' mi raik, +Aw'll ma' th' best ov a drop o' churn milk. + +It's nooan them 'at's getten all th' brass +'At's getten all th' pleasure, net it! +When aw'm smookin a pipe wi' th' owd lass, +Aw con thoil 'em whativver they get. + +But sometimes when aw'm walkin throo th' street, +An aw see fowk hawf-clam'd, an i' rags, +Wi' noa bed to lig daan on at neet +But i'th' warkus, or th' cold-lukkin flags; + +Then aw think, if rich fowk nobbut knew +What ther brothers i' poverty feel, +They'd a trifle moor charity show, +An help 'em sometimes to a meal. + +But we're all far too fond of ussen, +To bother wi' things aght o'th' seet; +An we leeav to ther fate sich as them +'At's noa bed nor noa supper at neet. + +But ther's monny a honest heart throbs, +Tho' it throbs under rags an' i' pains, +'At wod'nt disgrace one o'th' nobs, +'At booasts better blooid in his veins. + +See that child thear! 'at's workin away, +An sweepin that crossin i'th' street: +He's been thear ivver sin it coom day, +An yo'll find him thear far into th' neet. + +See what hundreds goa thowtlessly by, +An ne'er think o' that child wi' his broom! +What care they tho' he smothered a sigh, +Or wiped off a tear as they coom? + +But luk! thear's a man wi' a heart! +He's gien th' poor child summat at last: +Ha his e'en seem to twinkle an start, +As he watches th' kind gentleman past! + +An thear in his little black hand +He sees a gold sovereign shine! +He thinks he ne'er saw owt soa grand, +An he says, "Sure it connot be mine!" + +An all th' lads cluther raand him i' glee, +An tell him to cut aght o'th seet; +But he clutches it fast,--an nah see +Ha he's threedin his way along th' street. + +Till he comes to that varry same man, +An he touches him gently o'th' back, +An he tells him as weel as he can, +'At he fancies he's made a mistak. + +An th' chap luks at that poor honest lad, +With his little nak'd feet, as he stands, +An his heart oppens wide--he's soa glad +Woll he taks one o'th little black hands, + +An he begs him to tell him his name: +But th' child glances timidly raand-- +Poor craytur! he connot forshame +To lift up his e'en off o'th graand. + +But at last he finds courage to spaik, +An he tells him they call him poor Joa; +'At his mother is sickly an' waik; +An his father went deead long ago; + +An he's th' only one able to work +Aght o' four; an he does what he can, +Throo early at morn till it's dark: +An he hopes 'at he'll sooin be a man. + +An he tells him his mother's last word, +As he starts for his labor for th' day, +Is to put all his trust in the Lord, +An He'll net send him empty away.-- + +See that man! nah he's wipin his e'en, +An he gives him that bright piece o' gowd; +An th' lad sees i' that image o'th Queen +What'll keep his poor mother throo th' cowd. + +An monny a time too, after then, +Did that gentleman tak up his stand +At that crossing an watch for hissen +The work ov that little black hand. + +An when years had gooan by, he expressed +'At i'th' spite ov all th' taichin he'd had, +An all th' lessons he'd leearn'd, that wor th' best +'At wor towt by that poor little lad. + +Tho' the proud an the wealthy may prate, +An booast o' ther riches and land, +Some o'th' laadest 'ul sink second-rate +To that lad with his little black hand. + + + +My Native Twang. + + +They tell me aw'm a vulgar chap, +An ow't to goa to th' schooil +To leearn to talk like other fowk, +An net be sich a fooil; +But aw've a noashun, do yo see, +Although it may be wrang, +The sweetest music is to me, +Mi own, mi native twang. + +An when away throo all mi friends, +I' other taans aw rooam, +Aw find ther's nowt con mak amends +For what aw've left at hooam; +But as aw hurry throo ther streets +Noa matter tho aw'm thrang, +Ha welcome if mi ear but greets +Mi own, mi native twang. + +Why some despise it, aw can't tell, +It's plain to understand; +An sure aw am it saands as weel, +Tho' happen net soa grand. +Tell fowk they're courtin, they're enraged, +They call that vulgar slang; +But if aw tell 'em they're engaged, +That's net mi native twang. + +Mi father, tho' he may be poor, +Aw'm net ashamed o' him; +Aw love mi mother tho' shoo's deeaf, +An tho' her e'en are dim; +Aw love th' owd taan; aw love to walk +Its crucken'd streets amang; +For thear it is aw hear fowk tawk +Mi own, mi native twang. + +Aw like to hear hard-workin fowk +Say boldly what they meean; +For tho' ther hands are smeared wi' muck, +May be ther hearts are cleean. +An them 'at country fowk despise, +Aw say, "Why, let 'em hang;" +They'll nivver rob mi sympathies +Throo thee, mi native twang. + +Aw like to see grand ladies, +When they're donn'd i' silks soa fine; +Aw like to see ther dazzlin' e'en +Throo th' carriage winders shine; +Mi mother wor a woman, +An tho' it may be wrang, +Aw love 'em all, but mooastly them +'At tawk mi native twang. + +Aw wish gooid luck to ivvery one; +Gooid luck to them 'ats brass; +Gooid luck an better times to come +To them 'ats poor--alas! +An may health, wealth, an sweet content +For ivver dwell amang +True, honest-hearted, Yorkshire fowk, +'At tawk mi native twang. + + + +Sing On. + + +Sing on, tha bonny burd, sing on, sing on; + Aw connot sing; +A claad hings ovver me, do what aw con + Fresh troubles spring. +Aw wish aw could, like thee, fly far away, +Aw'd leeav mi cares an be a burd to-day. + +Mi heart wor once as full o' joy as thine, + But nah it's sad; +Aw thowt all th' happiness i'th' world wor mine, + Sich faith aw had;-- +But he who promised aw should be his wife +Has robb'd me o' mi ivvery joy i' life. + +Sing on! tha cannot cheer me wi' thi song; + Yet, when aw hear +Thi warblin' voice, 'at rings soa sweet an strong, + Aw feel a tear +Roll daan mi cheek, 'at gives mi heart relief, +A gleam o' comfort, but it's varry brief. + +This little darlin, cuddled to mi breast, + It little knows, +When snoozlin' soa quietly at rest, + 'At all mi woes +Are smothered thear, an mi poor heart ud braik +But just aw live for mi wee laddie's sake. + +Sing on; an if tha e'er should chonce to see + That faithless swain, +Whose falsehood has caused all mi misery, + Strike up thy strain, +An if his heart yet answers to thy trill +Fly back to me, an we will love him still. + +But if he heeds thee not, then shall aw feel + All hope is o'er, +An he that aw believed an loved soa weel + Be loved noa more; +For that hard heart, bird music cannot move, +Is far too cold a dwellin-place for love. + + + +Shoo's thi Sister. +(Written on seeing a wealthy Townsman rudely push +a poor little girl off the pavement.) + + +Gently, gently, shoo's thi sister, + Tho' her clooas are nowt but rags; +On her feet ther's monny a blister: + See ha painfully shoo drags +Her tired limbs to some quiet corner: +Shoo's thi sister--dunnot scorn her. + +Daan her cheeks noa tears are runnin, + Shoo's been shov'd aside befoor; +Used to scoffs, an sneers, an shunnin-- + Shoo expects it, 'coss shoo's poor; +Schooil'd for years her grief to smother, +Still shoo's human--tha'rt her brother. + +Tho' tha'rt donn'd i' fine black cloathin, +A kid glove o' awther hand, +Dunnot touch her roughly, loathin-- +Shoo's thi sister, understand: +Th' wind maks merry wi' her tatters, +Poor lost pilgrim!--but what matters? + +Luk ha sharp her elbow's growin, + An ha pale her little face; +An her hair neglected, showin + Her's has been a sorry case; +O, mi heart felt sad at th' seet, +When tha shov'd her into th' street. + +Ther wor once a "Man," mich greater + Nor thisen wi' all thi brass; +Him, awr blessed Mediator,-- + Wod He scorn that little lass? +Noa, He called 'em, an He blessed 'em, +An His hands divine caress'd 'em. + +Goa thi ways! an if tha bears net + Some regret for what tha's done, +If tha con pass on, an cares net + For that sufferin little one; +Then ha'ivver poor shoo be, +Yet shoo's rich compared wi' thee. + +Oh! 'at this breet gold should blind us, + To awr duties here below! +For we're forced to leeav behind us + All awr pomp, an all awr show; +Why then should we slight another? +Shoo's thi sister, unkind brother. + + + +Another Babby. + + +Another!--well, my bonny lad, + Aw wodn't send thee back; +Altho' we thowt we hadn't raam, + Tha's fun some in a crack. + +It maks me feel as pleased as punch + To see thi pratty face; +Ther's net another child i'th' bunch + Moor welcome to a place. + +Aw'st ha to fit a peark for thee, + I' some nook o' mi cage; +But if another comes, raylee! + Aw'st want a bigger wage. + +But aw'm noan feard tha'll ha to want-- + We'll try to pool thee throo, +For Him who has mi laddie sent, + He'll send his baggin too. + +He hears the little sparrows chirp, + An answers th' raven's call; +He'll nivver see one want for owt, + 'At's worth aboon 'em all. + +But if one on us mun goa short, + (Altho' it's hard to pine,) +Thy little belly shall be fill'd + Whativver comes o' mine. + +A chap con nobbut do his best, + An that aw'll do for thee, +Leavin to providence all th' rest, + An we'st get help'd, tha'll see. + +An if thi lot's as bright an fair + As aw could wish it, lad, +Tha'll come in for a better share + Nor ivver blessed thi dad. + +Aw think aw'st net ha lived for nowt, + If, when deeath comes, aw find +Aw leeav some virtuous lasses + An some honest lads behind. + +An tho' noa coat ov arms may grace + For me, a sculptor'd stooan, +Aw hooap to leeav a noble race, + Wi' arms o' flesh an booan. + +Then cheer up, lad, tho' things luk black, + Wi' health, we'll persevere, +An try to find a brighter track-- + We'll conquer, nivver fear! + +An may God shield thee wi' his wing, + Along life's stormy way, +An keep thi heart as free throo sin, + As what it is to-day. + + + +To a Roadside Flower. + + +Tha bonny little pooasy! aw'm inclined + To tak thee wi' me: +But yet aw think if tha could spaik thi mind, + Tha'd ne'er forgie me; +For i' mi jacket button-hoil tha'd quickly dee, +An life is short enuff, booath for mi-sen an thee. + +Here, if aw leeav thee bi th' rooadside to flourish, + Whear scoors may pass thee; +Some heart 'at has few other joys to cherish + May stop an bless thee: +Then bloom, mi little pooasy! Tha'rt a beauty! +Sent here to bless: Smile on--tha does thi duty. + +Aw wodn't rob another of a joy + Sich as tha's gien me; +For aw felt varry sad, mi little doy + Until aw'd seen thee. +An may each passin, careworn, lowly brother, +Feel cheered like me, an leeav thee for another. + + + +An Old Man's Christmas Morning. + + +Its a long time sin thee an' me have met befoor, owd lad,-- + Soa pull up thi cheer, an sit daan, + for ther's noabdy moor welcome nor thee: +Thi toppin's grown whiter nor once,--yet mi heart feels glad, + To see ther's a rooas o' thi cheek, + an a bit ov a leet i' thi e'e. + +Thi limbs seem to totter an shake, like a crazy owd fence, + 'At th' wind maks to tremel an creak; + but tha still fills thi place; +An it shows 'at tha'rt bless'd wi' a bit o' gradely gooid sense, + 'At i' spite o' thi years an thi cares, + tha still wears a smile o' thi face. + +Come fill up thi pipe--for aw knaw tha'rt reight fond ov a rick,-- + An tha'll find a drop o' hooam-brew'd + i' that pint up o'th' hob, aw dar say; +An nah, wol tha'rt tooastin thi shins, + just scale th' foir, an aw'll side thi owd stick, + Then aw'll tell thi some things + 'at's happen'd sin tha went away. + +An first of all tha mun knaw 'at aw havn't been spar'd, + For trials an troubles have come, + an mi heart has felt well nigh to braik; +An mi wife, 'at tha knaws wor mi pride, + an mi fortuns has shared, + Shoo bent under her griefs, an shoo's flown far, + far away aght o' ther raik. + +My life's like an owd gate 'at's nobbut one hinge for support, + An sometimes aw wish--aw'm soa lonely-- + at tother 'ud drop off wi' rust; +But it hasn't to be, for it seems Life maks me his spooart, + An Deeath cannot even spare time, + to turn sich an owd man into dust. + +Last neet as aw sat an watched th' yule log awd put on to th' fire, + As it crackled, an sparkled, an flared up wi sich gusto an spirit, +An when it wor touched it shone breeter, an flared up still higher, + Till at last aw'd to shift th' cheer + further back for aw couldn't bide near it; + +Th' dull saand o'th' church bells coom to tell me + one moor Christmas mornin, + Had come, for its welcome--but ha could aw + welcome it when all alooan? +For th' snow wor fallin soa thickly, an th' cold wind wor mooanin, + An them 'at aw lov'd wor asleep i' + that cold church yard, under a stooan. + +Soa aw went to bed an aw slept, an then began dreamin, + 'At mi wife stood by mi side, + an smiled, an mi heart left off its beatin, +An aw put aght mi hand, an awoke, an mornin wor gleamin; + An its made me feel sorrowful, an aw connot give ovver freatin. + +For aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha' been, + If awd gooan to that place, where ther's noa moor cares, + nor partin, nor sorrow, +For aw know shoo's thear, or that dream aw sud nivver ha seen, + But aw'll try to be patient, + an maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow. + +It's forty long summers an winters, sin tha bade "gooid bye," + An as fine a young fella tha wor, as ivver aw met i' mi life; +When tha went to some far away land, thi fortune to try, + An aw stopt at hooam to toil on, + becoss it wor th' wish o' my wife. + +An shoo wor a bonny young wench, an better nor bonny,-- + Aw seem nah as if aw can see her, + wi' th' first little bairn on her knee; +An we called it Ann, for aw liked that name best ov onny, + An fowk said it wor th' pictur o'th' mother, + wi' just a strinklin o' me. + +An th' next wor a lad, an th' next wor a lad, then a lass came,-- + That made us caant six,--an six happier fowk nivver sat to a meal, +An they grew like hop plants--full o' life--but waikly i'th' frame, + An at last one drooped, an Deeath coom an marked her with his seal. + +A year or two moor an another seemed longin to goa, + An all we could do wor to smooth his deeath bed, + 'at he might sleep sweeter-- +Then th' third seemed to sicken an pine, an we couldn't say "noa," + For he said his sister had called, + an he wor most anxious to meet her-- + +An how we watched th' youngest, noa mortal can tell but misen, + For we prized it moor, + becoss it wor th' only one left us to cherish; +At last her call came, an shoo luked sich a luk at us then, + Which aw ne'er shall forget, + tho' mi mem'ry ov all other things perish. + +A few years moor, when awr griefs wor beginnin to lighten, + Mi friends began askin my wife, + if shoo felt hersen hearty an strong? +An aw nivver saw at her face wor beginnin to whiten, + Till shoo grew like a shadow, an aw could'nt even guess wrong. + +Then aw stood beside th' grave when th' saxton + wor shovin in th' gravel, + An he sed, "this last maks five, + an aw think ther's just room for another," +An aw went an left him, lonely an heartsick to travel, + Till th' time comes when aw may lig daan + beside them four bairns an ther mother. + +An aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha been + If aw'd gooan to that place where + ther's noa moor cares, nor partin, nor sorrow; +An aw knaw they're thear, or that dream aw should nivver ha seen, + But aw'll try to be patient, + an maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow. + + + +Settin Off. + + +It isn't 'at aw want to rooam + An leeav thi bi thisen: +For aw'm content enuff at hooam, + Aw'm net like other men. +But then ther's thee an childer three, + To care for an protect, +It's reight 'at yo should luk to me, + An wrang should aw neglect. + +Aw'm growin older ivvery day, + My race is ommost run, +Time's growin varry precious, lass, + An lots remains undone. +If aw wor called away, maybe, + Tha'd find some other man, +But tha cannot find a father, +For them lads,--do th' best tha can. + +Another husband might'nt prove + As kind as aw have been; +An wedded life's a weary thing, + When love's shut aght o'th' scene. +Aw know aw've faults, aw'll own a lot,-- + But then, tha must agree, +Aw've allus kept a tender spot + Within mi heart for thee. + +An if aw've spokken nowty words + At's made thee cry an freeat; +Aw've allus suffered twice as mich, + An beg'd thi to forget. +Tha'rt th' only woman maks me mad, + Then soothes me wi' a smile, +Then maks mi fancy aw'm a king, + An snubs me all the while, + +Nay,--nay,--old lass! it isn't fun + Nor frolics that allure,-- +Aw'm strivin for thisen an bairns, + To mak yor futur sure. +It's duty at aw think aw owe + To them young things an thee, +The thowts o' which may cheer mi heart, + When aw lay daan to dee. + + + +To th' Swallow. + + +Bonny burd! aw'm fain to see thee, + For tha tells ov breeter weather; +But aw connot quite forgie thee,-- + Connot love thee altogether. + +'Tisn't thee aw fondly welcome-- + 'Tis the cheerin news tha brings, +Tellin us fine weather will come, + When we see thi dappled wings. + +But aw'd rayther have a sparrow,-- + Rayther hear a robin twitter;-- +Tho' they may net be thi marrow, + May net fly wi' sich a glitter; + +But they nivver leeav us, nivver-- + Storms may come, but still they stay; +But th' first wind 'at ma's thee shivver, + Up tha mounts an flies away. + +Ther's too monny like thee, swallow, + 'At when fortun's sun shines breet, +Like a silly buzzard follow, + Doncin raand a bit o' leet. + +But ther's few like Robin redbreast, + Cling throo days o' gloom an care; +Soa aw love mi old tried friends best-- + Fickle hearts aw'll freely spare. + + + +A Wife. + + +Wod yo leead a happy life? + Aw can show yo ha,-- +Get a true an lovin wife,-- + (Yo may have one nah.) +If yo have, remember this, + Be a true man to her, +An whativver gooas amiss, + Keep noa secrets throo her. + +Some chaps think a wife's a toy, + Just for ther caressin; +But sichlike can ne'er enjoy, + This world's richest blessin. +Some ther are who think 'em slaves, + Fit for nowt but drudgin, +An if owt ther fancy craves, + Give it to 'em grudgin. + +Dooant forget yor patient wife, + Like yorsen is human, +For yo owe yor precious life, + To another woman. +Mak her equal wi' yorsen, + (Ten to one shoo's better,) +Tell her all yor plans, an then + If shoo'll help yo, let her. + +Oft yo'll find her ready wit, + An her keen perception, +Help yo're slower brains a bit + Wi' some new conception. +Dooant expect 'at wives should be + Like dumb breedin cattle, +Spendin life contentedly + Wi' ther babby's prattle. + +If yo happen to be sick, + Then they nurse an tend yo, +An when trubbles gether thick, + They can best befriend yo. +An if sympathy yo need, + Thear yo'll sure receive it, +Yo accept it, but indeed, + Yo but seldom give it. + +If life's journey yo'd have breet, + Mak yor wife yor treasure, +Trustin her booath day an neet, + Sharin grief an pleasure. +Then yo'll find her smilin face, + Ivver thear to cheer yo, +An yo'll run a nobler race, + Knowin 'at shoo's near yo. + + + +Heart Brokken. + + +He wor a poor hard workin lad, + An shoo a workin lass, +An hard they tew'd throo day to day, + For varry little brass. +An oft they tawk'd o'th' weddin day, + An lang'd for th' happy time, +When poverty noa moor should part, + Two lovers i' ther prime. + +But wark wor scarce, an wages low, + An mait an drink wor dear, +They did ther best to struggle on, + As year crept after year. +But they wor little better off, + Nor what they'd been befoor; +It tuk 'em all ther time to keep + Grim Want aghtside o'th' door. + +Soa things went on, wol Hope at last, + Gave place to dark despair; +They felt they'd nowt but lovin hearts, + An want an toil to share. +At length he screw'd his courage up + To leeav his native shore; +An goa where wealth wor worshipped less, + An men wor valued moor. + +He towld his tale;--poor lass!--a tear + Just glistened in her e'e; +Then soft shoo whispered, "please thisen, + But think sometimes o' me: +An whether tha's gooid luck or ill, + Tha knows aw shall be glad +To see thee safe at hooam agean, + An welcome back mi lad." + +"Awl labor on, an do mi best; + Tho' lonely aw must feel, +But awst be happy an content + If tha be dooin weel. +But ne'er forget tho' waves may roll, + An keep us far apart; +Tha's left a poor, poor lass behind, + An taen away her heart." + +"Dost think 'at aw can e'er forget, + Whearivver aw may rooam, +That bonny face an lovin heart, + Aw've prized soa dear at hooam? +Nay lass, nooan soa, be sure o' this, + 'At till next time we meet +Tha'll be mi first thowt ivvery morn, + An last thowt ivvery neet." + +He went away an years flew by, + But tidins seldom came; +Shoo couldn't help, at times, a sigh, + But breathed noa word o' blame; +When one fine day a letter came, + 'Twor browt to her at th' mill, +Shoo read it, an her tremblin hands, + An beating heart stood still. + +Her fellow workers gathered raand + An caught her as shoo fell, +An as her heead droop'd o' ther arms, + Shoo sighed a sad "farewell." +Poor lass! her love had proved untrue, + He'd play'd a traitor's part, +He'd taen another for his bride, + An broke a trustin heart. + +Her doleful stooary sooin wor known, + An monny a tear wor shed; +They took her hooam an had her laid, + Upon her humble bed; +Shoo'd nawther kith nor kin to come + Her burial fees to pay; +But some poor comrade's undertuk, + To see her put away. + +Each gave what little helps they could, + From aght ther scanty stooar; +I' hooaps 'at some 'at roll'd i' wealth + Wod give a trifle moor. +But th' maisters ordered 'em away, + Abaat ther business, sharp! +For shoo'd deed withaat a nooatice, + An shoo hadn't fell'd her warp. + + + +Lines, on finding a butterfly in a weaving shed. + + +Nay surelee tha's made a mistak; + Tha'rt aght o' thi element here; +Tha may weel goa an peark up o'th' thack, + Thi bonny wings shakin wi' fear. + +Aw should think 'at theease rattlin looms + Saand queer sooart o' music to thee; +An tha'll hardly quite relish th' perfumes + O' miln-greease,--what th' quality be. + +Maybe tha'rt disgusted wi' us, + An thinks we're a low offald set, +But tha'rt sadly mistaen if tha does, + For ther's hooap an ther's pride in us yet. + +Tha wor nobbut a worm once thisen, + An as humble as humble could be; +An tho we nah are like tha wor then, + We may yet be as nobby as thee. + +Tha'd to see thi own livin when young, + An when tha grew up tha'd to spin; +An if labor like that wornt wrong, + Tha con hardly call wayvin 'a sin.' + +But tha longs to be off aw con tell: + For tha shows 'at tha ar'nt content; +Soa aw'll oppen thee th' window--farewell + Off tha goas, bonny fly!--An it went. + + + +Rejected. + + +Gooid bye, lass, aw dunnot blame, + Tho' mi loss is hard to bide! +For it wod ha' been a shame, + Had tha ivver been the bride +Of a workin chap like me; +One 'ats nowt but love to gie. + +Hard hoof'd neives like thease o' mine. + Surely ne'er wor made to press +Hands so lily-white as thine; + Nor should arms like thease caress +One so slender, fair, an' pure, +'Twor unlikely, lass, aw'm sure. + +But thease tears aw cannot stay,-- + Drops o' sorrow fallin fast, +Hopes once held aw've put away + As a dream, an think its past; +But mi poor heart loves thi still, +An' wol life is mine it will. + +When aw'm seated, lone and sad, + Wi mi scanty, hard won meal, +One thowt still shall mak me glad, + Thankful that alone aw feel +What it is to tew an' strive +Just to keep a soul alive. + +Th' whin-bush rears o'th' moor its form, + An' wild winds rush madly raand, +But it whistles to the storm, + In the barren home it's faand; +Natur fits it to be poor, +An 'twor vain to strive for moor. + +If it for a lily sighed, + An' a lily chonced to grow, +When it found the fair one died, + Powerless to brave the blow +Of the first rude gust o' wind, +Which had left its wreck behind. + +Then 'twod own 'twor better fate + Niver to ha' held the prize; +Whins an' lilies connot mate, + Sich is not ther destinies; +Then 'twor wrang for one like me, +One soa poor, to sigh for thee. + +Then gooid bye, aw dunnot blame, + Tho' mi loss it's hard to bide, +For it wod ha' been a shame + Had tha iver been mi bride; +Content aw'll wear mi lonely lot, +Tho' mi poor heart forgets thee not. + + + +Persevere. + + +What tho' th' claads aboon luk dark, + Th' sun's just waitin to peep throo; +Let us buckle to awr wark, + For ther's lots o' jobs to do: +Tho' all th' world luks dark an drear, + Let's ha faith, an persevere. + +He's a fooil 'at sits an mumps + 'Coss some troubles hem him raand! +Man mud allus be i'th dumps, + If he sulk'd 'coss fortun fraand; +Th' time 'll come for th' sky to clear:-- + Let's ha faith, an persevere. + +If we think awr lot is hard, + Nivver let us mak a fuss; +Lukkin raand, at ivvery yard, + We'st find others war nor us; +We have still noa cause to fear! +Let's ha faith, an persevere. + +A faint heart, aw've heeard 'em say, + Nivver won a lady fair: +Have a will! yo'll find a way! + Honest men ne'er need despair. +Better days are drawin near:-- +Then ha faith, an persevere. + +Workin men,--nah we've a voice, + An con help to mak new laws; +Let us ivver show awr choice + Lains to strengthen virtue's cause, +Wrangs to reighten,--griefs to cheer; +This awr motto--'Persevere.' + +Let us show to foreign empires + Loyalty's noa empty booast; +We can scorn the thirsty vampires + If they dar molest awr cooast: +To awr Queen an country dear +Still we'll cling an persevere. + +The printed version in Yorkshire Lyrics finishes here +These two extra verses are from Yorkshire Ditties First Series. + +But as on throo life we hurry, + By whativver path we rooam, +Let us ne'er forget i'th' worry, + True reform begins at hooam: +Then, to prove yorsens sincere, +Start at once; an persevere. + +Hard wark, happen yo may find it, + Some dear folly to forsake, +Be detarmined ne'er to mind it! + Think, yor honor's nah at stake. +Th' gooid time's drawin varry near! +Then ha faith, an persevere. + + + +A Pointer. + + +Just listen to mi stooary lads, + It's one will mak yo grieve; +It's full ov sich strange incidents; + Yo hardly can believe. +That lass aw cooarted, went one neet + Aght walkin wi' a swell; +They ovvertuk me on mi way, + An this is what befell. + +They tuk me for a finger pooast; + Aw stood soa varry still; +An daan they set beside me, + Just at top o' Beacon Hill. +He sed shoo wor his deary; + Shoo sed he wor her pet; +'Twor an awkward sittiwation + Which aw shall'nt sooin forget. + +Aw stood straight up at top o'th' hill,-- + They set daan at mi feet; +He hugged her up soa varry cloise, + Aw thowt ther lips must meet. +He sed he loved wi' all his heart, + Shoo fainted reight away; +Aw darsn't luk,--aw darsn't start, + But aw wished misen away. + + They tuk me for, &c. + +He bathed her temples from the brook; + He sed shoo wor his life, +It made me queer, becoss aw'd sworn + To mak that lass mi wife. +Shoo coom araand, an ligg'd her heead, + Upon his heavin breast; +An then shoo skriked, an off aw ran, + But aw cannot tell the rest. + + They tuk me for, &c. + +They wedded wor, sooin after that, + Aw thowt mi heart wod braik;-- +It didn't,--soa aw'm livin on, + An freeatin for her sake. +But sweet revenge,--it coom at last, + For childer shoo had three, +An they're all marked wi' a finger pooast + Whear it didn't owt to be. + + They tuk me for, &c. + + + +An Acrostic. + + +H a! if yo'd nobbut known that lass, +A w'm sure yo'd call her bonny; +N oa other could her charms surpass, +N oa other had as monny. +A n ha aw lost mi peace o' mind, +H ark! an aw'll tell if yor inclined. +C awered in a nook one day aw set, +R aand which wild flaars wor growin; +O, that sweet time aw'st ne'er forget, +S oa long as aw've mi knowin. +T hear aw first saw this lovely lass; +I n thowtful mood shoo tarried, +"C ome be mi bride, sweet maid!" aw cried: +"K eep off!" shoo skriked, "aw'm married!" + + + +Help Thisen. + + +"Come, help thisen, lad,--help thisen!" + Wor what mi uncle sed. +We'd just come in throo makkin hay, + To get some cheese an breead. +An help misen aw did,--yo bet! + Aw wor a growin lad; +Aw thowt then, an aw fancy yet, + 'Twor th' grandest feed aw'd had. + +When aw grew up aw fell i' love,-- + Shoo wor a bonny lass! +But bein varry young an shy, + Aw let mi chonces pass. +Aw could'nt for mi life contrive + A thing to do or say, +For fear aw should offend her, soa + Aw let her walk away. + +But what aw suffered nooan can tell;-- + Aw loved her as mi life! +But dursn't ax her for the world + To be mi darlin wife. +Aw desperate grew,--we met,--aw ax'd + For just one kuss,--an then, +Shoo blushed, an shook her bonny curls, + But let me help misen. + +It's varry monny years sin then,-- + Mi hair's nah growin gray; +But oft throo life aw've thowt aw've heeard + That same owd farmer say,-- +When in some fix aw've vainly sowt + For aid from other men,-- +"Tha'rt wastin time,--if tha wants help + Pluck up, an help thisen." + +If th' prize yo long for seems too heigh, + Dooant let yor spirits drop; +Ther may be lots o' thrustin, but + Yo'll find ther's room at th' top. +Yo connot tell what yo can do + Until yo've had a try; +It may be a hard struggle, but + Yo'll get thear, by-an-bye. + +Nah, young fowk, bear this in yor mind + An let it be yor creed, +For sooin yo'll find fowk's promises + Are but a rotten reed. +Feight yor own battles bravely throo, + Yo'll sewerly win, an then +Yo'll find ther's lots will help yo, + When yo con help yorsen. + + + +Bless 'em! + + +O, the lasses, the lasses, God bless 'em! +His heart must be hard as a stooan +'At could willingly goa an distress 'em, +For withaat 'em man's lot 'ud be looan. + +Tho' th' pooasies i' paradise growin +For Adam, wor scented soa sweet, +He ne'er thank'd 'em for odour bestowin, +He trampled 'em under his feet. + +He long'd to some sweet one to whisper; +An wol sleepin Eve came to his home; +He wakken'd, an saw her, an kuss'd her, +An ne'er ax'd her a word ha shoo'd come. + +An tho' shoo, like her sex, discontented, +An anxious fowk's saycrets to know, +Pluck'd an apple,--noa daat shoo repented +When shoo saw at it made sich a row. + +Tho' aw know shoo did wrang, aw forgie her; +For aw'm fairly convinced an declare, +'At aw'd rayther ha sin an be wi' her, +Nor all th' world an noa woman to share. + +Then let us be kind to all th' wimmin, +Throo th' poorest to th' Queen up oth' throne, +For if, Eve-like, they sometimes goa sinnin, +It's moor for th' chaps' sakes nor ther own. + + + +Act Square. + + +"Another day will follow this," + Ah,--that shall sewerly be, +But th' day 'at dawns to-morn, my lad, + May nivver dawn for thee, +This day is thine, soa use it weel, + For fear when it has passed, +Some duty has been left undone + On th' day at proved thy last. + +What's passed an gooan's beyond recall, + An th' futer's all unknown; +Dooant specilate on what's to be, + Neglect in what's thi own. +When morn in comes thank God tha'rt spared + To see another day; +An when tha goas to bed at neet, + Life's burdens on Him lay. + +Although thy station may be low, + Thy life's conditions hard, +Mak th' best o' what falls to thi lot, + An tha shall win reward. +Man's days ov toil on earth are few + Compared to that long rest +'At stretches throo Eternity, + For them 'at's done ther best. + +Though monny rough hills tha's to climb, + An bogs an becks to wade; +Though thorns an brambles chooak thi path, + Yet, push on undismayed. +Detarmination, back'd wi' Faith, + An Hope to cheer thi on, +Shall gie thi strugglin efforts strength, + Until thi journey's done. + +Let thi religion be thi life,-- + Let ivvery word an deed +Be prompted bi a love for all, + Whativver be ther creed. +Let wranglin praichers twist an twine, + Ther doctrines new an old; +Act square,--an ther is One will see + Tha'rt net left aght i'th' cold. + + + +His Dowter Gate Wed. + + +He'd had his share ov ups an daans, + His sprees an troubles too; +Ov country joys an life i' taans, + He'd run th' whoal gamut throo. +He labored hard to mak ends meet, + An keep things all ship-shap: +An th' naybor's sed, 'at lived i'th' street, + "He's a varry daycent chap." + +He paid his rent an gave his wife + Enuff for clooas an grub, +To pleas her he'd insured his life, + An joined a burial club. +His childer,--grander nivver ran + To climb a father's knee; +Noa better wife had onny man,-- + Noa praader chap could be. + +He tuk noa stock i' fleetin time, + He nivver caanted th' years; +For he wor hale, just in his prime, + An nowt to cause him fears. +He nivver dreamt ov growin old, + Sich thowts ne'er made him freat, +He sed,--"Why aw'm as gooid as gold, + Aw'm but a youngster yet!" + +His childer thrave like willow wands, + An made fine maids an men, +But th' thowt ne'er entered in his nut, + 'At he grew old hissen. +His e'en wor oppened one fine day, + His dreams o' youth all fled; +An th' reason on it wor, they say,-- + His dowter,--shoo gate wed. + +"E'a, gow!" he sed, "but this licks me! + Shoo's but a child hersen,-- +Ov all things!--why,--it connot be + Her thowts should turn to men!" +"Whisht!" sed his wife, "we wed as young, + An shoo's moor sense bi far,-- +An then tha knows shoo's th' grandest lass + 'At lives at Batley Carr." + +He gave a grooan, for on his lass + He'd set a deal o' stooar. +He lit his pipe an filled his glass, + Then fixed his e'en o'th' flooar. +"By gum!" he sed, "but this is rough, + Aw ne'er knew owt as bad, +If shoo's a wife, its plain enuff + Aw connot be a lad." + +"Aw must be old,--aw say,--old lass,-- + Does't think aw'm growin grey? +Gooid gracious! but ha time does pass! + But tha doesn't age a day. +Tha'rt just as buxum nah as then, + Aw'st think tha must feel shamed, +Tha luks as young as her thisen,-- + Or could do, if tha framed." + +"Aw'st ha to alter all mi ways,-- + Noa moor aw'st ha to rooam;-- +Just sattle daan an end mi days + Cronkt up bith' hob at hooam. +An 'fore owts long, as like as net, + Wol crooidled up i'th' nook, +Ther'll be some youngster browt, aw'll bet, + To watch his grondad smook." + +"Do stop! aw wonder ha tha dar, + Behave thi soa unkind! +Does't think 'at th' lads i' Batley Carr + Are all booath dumb an blind? +Shoo's wed a steady, honest chap, + An shoo's booath gooid an fair, +Ther's net another fit to swap,-- + They mak a gradely pair." + +"'Man worn't made to live alooan,' + Tha tell'd me that thisen:-- +Tha needn't shak thi heead an grooan;-- + Tha's happen changed sin then. +But if ther ivver wor a crank, + It's been my luck to see, +It wor my childer's father + When he furst coom coortin me." + +"But rest content, its all for th' best;-- + An then tha must ha known,-- +Shoo thowt it time at shoo possest + A nice hooam ov her own." +"Well--may they prosper! That's my prayer,-- + They'st nivver want a friend +Wol aw'm alive,--but aw'st beware, + An watch theas younger end." + + + +All We Had. + + +It worn't for her winnin ways, + Nor for her bonny face +But shoo wor th' only lass we had, + An that quite alters th' case. + +We'd two fine lads as yo need see, + An' weel we love 'em still; +But shoo war th' only lass we had, + An' we could spare her ill. + +We call'd her bi mi mother's name, + It saanded sweet to me; +We little thowt ha varry sooin + Awr pet wod have to dee. + +Aw used to watch her ivery day, + Just like a oppenin bud; +An' if aw couldn't see her change, + Aw fancied' at aw could. + +Throo morn to neet her little tongue + Wor allus on a stir; +Awve heeard a deeal o' childer lisp, + But nooan at lispt like her. + +Sho used to play all sooarts o' tricks, + 'At childer shouldn't play; +But then, they wor soa nicely done, + We let her have her way. + +But bit bi bit her spirits fell, + Her face grew pale an' thin; +For all her little fav'rite toys + Shoo didn't care a pin. + +Aw saw th' old wimmin shak ther heeads, + Wi monny a doleful nod; +Aw knew they thowt shoo'd goa, but still + Aw couldn't think shoo wod. + +Day after day my wife an' me, + Bent o'er that suff'rin child, +Shoo luk'd at mammy, an' at me, + Then shut her een an' smiled. + +At last her spirit pass'd away; + Her once breet een wor dim; +Shoo'd heeard her Maker whisper 'come,' + An' hurried off to Him. + +Fowk tell'd us t'wor a sin to grieve, + For God's will must be best; +But when yo've lost a child yo've loved, + It puts yor Faith to th' test. + +We pick'd a little bit o' graand, + Whear grass and daisies grew, +An' trees wi spreeadin boughs aboon + Ther solemn shadows threw. + +We saw her laid to rest, within + That deep grave newly made; +Wol th' sexton let a tear drop fall, + On th' handle ov his spade. + +It troubled us to walk away, + An' leeav her bi hersen; +Th' full weight o' what we'd had to bide, + We'd niver felt till then. + +But th' hardest task wor yet to come, + That pang can ne'er be towld; +'Twor when aw feszend th' door at nee't, + An' locked her aat i'th' cowld. + +'Twor then hot tears roll'd daan mi cheek, + 'Twor then aw felt mooast sad; +For shoo'd been sich a tender plant, + An' th' only lass we had. + +But nah we're growin moor resign'd, + Although her face we miss; +For He's blest us wi another, + An we've hopes o' rearin this, + + + +Th' First o'th Sooart. + + +Aw heeard a funny tale last neet-- +Aw could'nt howd fro' laffin-- +'Twor at th' Bull's Heead we chonced to meet, +An' spent an haar i' chaffin. +Some sang a song, some cracked a joak, +An' all seem'd full o' larkin; +An' th' raam war blue wi' bacca smook, +An' ivery e'e'd a spark in. + +Long Joa 'at comes thro th' Jumples cluff, +Wor gettin rayther mazy; +An' Warkus Ned had supped enuff +To turn they're Betty crazy;-- +An Bob at lives at th' Bogeggs farm, +Wi' Nan throo th' Buttress Bottom, +Wor treating her to summat wanm, +(It's just his way,--"odd drot em!") + +An' Jack o'th' Slade wor theear as weel, +An' Joa o' Abe's throo Waerley; +An' Lijah off o'th' Lavver Hill, +Wor passing th' ale raand rarely.-- +Throo raand and square they seem'd to meet, +To hear or tell a stoory; +But th' gem o' all aw heard last neet +Wor one bi Dooad o'th' gloory. + +He bet his booits 'at it wor true, +An' all seem'd to believe him; +Tho' if he'd lost he need'nt rue-- +But 't wodn't ha done to grieve him +His uncle lived i' Pudsey taan, +An' practised local praichin; +An' if he 're lucky, he wor baan +To start a schooil for taichin. + +But he wor takken varry ill; +He felt his time wor comin: +(They say he brought it on hissel +Wi' studdyin his summin.) +He call'd his wife an' neighbors in +To hear his deein sarmon, +An' tell'd 'em if they liv'd i' sin +Ther lot ud be a warm en. + +Then turin raand unto his wife, +Said--"Mal, tha knows, owd craytur, +If awd been bless'd wi' longer life, +Aw might ha' left things straighter. +Joa Sooitill owes me eighteen pence-- +Aw lent it him last lovefeast." +Says Mal--"He has'nt lost his sense-- +Thank God for that at least!" + +"An Ben o'th' top o'th' bank tha knows, +We owe him one paand ten.".-- +"Just hark!" says Mally, "there he goas! +He's ramellin agean! +Dooant tak a bit o' noatice, fowk! +Yo see, poor thing, he's ravin! +It cuts me up to hear sich talk-- +He spent his life i' savin! + +"An Mally lass," he said agean, +"Tak heed o' my direction: +Th' schooil owes us hauf a craan--aw mean +My share o'th' last collection.-- +Tha'll see to that, an have what's fair +When my poor life is past."-- +Says Mally, "listen, aw declare, +He's sensible to th' last." + +He shut his een an' sank to rest-- +Deeath seldom claimed a better: +They put him by,--but what wor th' best, +He sent 'em back a letter, +To tell 'em all ha he'd gooan on; +An' ha he gate to enter; +An' gave 'em rules to act upon +If ever they should ventur. + +Theear Peter stood wi' keys i' hand: +Says he, "What do you want, sir? +If to goa in--yo understand +Unknown to me yo can't sir.-- +Pray what's your name? where are yo throo? +Just make your business clear." +Says he, "They call me Parson Drew, +Aw've come throo Pudsey here." + +"You've come throo Pudsey, do you say? +Doant try sich jokes o' me, sir; +Aw've kept thease doors too long a day, +Aw can't be fooiled bi thee, sir." +Says Drew, "aw wodn't tell a lie, +For th' sake o' all ther's in it: +If yo've a map o' England by, +Aw'll show yo in a minit." + +Soa Peter gate a time-table-- +They gloored o'er th' map together: +Drew did all at he wor able, +But could'nt find a stiver. +At last says he, "Thear's Leeds Taan Hall, +An thear stands Braforth mission: +It's just between them two--that's all: +Your map's an old edition. + +But thear it is, aw'll lay a craan, +An' if yo've niver known it, +Yo've miss'd a bonny Yorksher taan, +Tho mony be 'at scorn it." +He oppen'd th' gate,--says he, "It's time +Some body coom--aw'll trust thee. +Tha'll find inside noa friends o' thine-- +Tha'rt th' furst 'at's come throo Pudsey." + + + +Poor Old Hat. + + +Poor old hat! poor old hat! like misen tha's grown + An fowk call us old fashioned an odd; +But monny's the storm we have met sin that day, + When aw bowt thee all shiny an snod. +As aw walked along th' street wi thee peearkt o' mi broo, + Fowk's manners wor cappin to see; +An aw thowt it wor me they bade 'ha do yo do,' + But aw know nah they nodded at thee. + +Poor old hat! poor old hat! aw mun cast thee aside, + For awr friendship has lasted too long; +Tho' tha still art mi comfort, an once wor mi pride, + Tha'rt despised i' this world's giddy throng. +Dooant think me ungrateful, or call me unkind, + If another aw put i thi place; +For aw think tha'll admit if tha'll oppen thi mind, + Tha can bring me nowt moor but disgrace. + +Poor old hat! poor old hat! varry sooin it may be, + Aw'st be scorned an cast off like thisen; +An be shoved aght o'th gate wi less kindness nor thee + An have nubdy to care for me then. +But one thing aw'll contrive as tha's sarved me soa weel, + An tha gave thi best days to mi use; +Noa war degradation aw'll cause thee to feel, + For aw'll screen thi throo scorn an abuse. + +Poor old hat! poor old hat! if thart thrown aght o' door, + Tha may happen be punced abaat th' street, +For like moor things i'th world, if thart shabby an poor, + It wor best tha should keep aght o'th seet. +Wine mellows wi age, an old pots fotch big brass, + An fowk rave ov antique this an that, +An they worship grey stooans, an old booans, but alas! + Ther's nubdy respects an old hat. + +Poor old hat! poor old hat! awm reight fast what to do, + To burn thi aw havnt the heart, +If aw stow thi away tha'll be moth etten throo, + An thart seedy enuff as tha art. +Tha's long been a comfort when worn o' mi heead, + Soa dooant freeat, for to pairt we're net gooin, +For aw'll mak on thi soils for mi poor feet asteead, + An aw'll wear thi once moor i' mi shooin. + +Poor old hat! poor old hat! ne'er repine at thi lot, + If thart useful what moor can ta be? +Better wear cleean away nor be idle an rot, + An remember thart useful to me. +Though its hard to give up what wor once dearly prized, + Tha but does what all earthly things must, +For though we live honored, or perish despised,-- + We're at last but a handful o' dust. + + + +Done Agean. + + +Aw've a rare lump o' beef on a dish, + We've some bacon 'at's hung up o' th' thack, +We've as mich gooid spice-cake as we wish, + An wi' currens its varry near black; +We've a barrel o' gooid hooam brewed drink, + We've a pack o' flaar reared agean th' clock, +We've a load o' puttates under th' sink, + So we're pretty weel off as to jock. +Aw'm soa fain aw can't tell whear to bide, + But the cause aw dar hardly let aat; +It suits me moor nor all else beside: + Aw've a paand at th' wife knows nowt abaat. + +Aw can nah have a spree to misel; + Aw can treat mi old mates wi' a glass; +An' aw sha'nt ha' to come home an tell + My old lass, ha' aw've shut all mi brass. +Some fowk say, when a chap's getten wed, + He should nivver keep owt thro' his wife; +If he does awve oft heeard 'at it's sed, + 'At it's sure to breed trouble an strife; +If it does aw'm net baan to throw up, + Though awd mich rayther get on withaat; +But who wodn't risk a blow up, + For a paand 'at th' wife knows nowt abaat. + +Aw hid it i' th' coil hoil last neet, + For fear it dropt aat o' mi fob, +Coss aw knew, if shoo happened to see 't, + 'At mi frolic wod prove a done job. +But aw'll gladden mi e'en wi' its face, + To mak sure at its safe in its nick;-- +But aw'm blest if ther's owt left i' th' place! + Why, its hook'd it as sure as aw'm wick. +Whear its gooan to's a puzzle to me, + An' who's taen it aw connot mak aat, +For it connot be th' wife, coss you see + It's a paand 'at shoo knew nowt abaat. + +But thear shoo is, peepin' off th' side, + An' aw see 'at shoo's all on a grin; +To chait her aw've monny a time tried, + But I think it's nah time to give in, +A chap may be deep as a well, + But a woman's his maister when done; +He may chuckle and flatter hissel, + But he'll wakken to find at shoo's won. +It's a rayther unpleasant affair, + Yet it's better it's happened noa daat; +Aw'st be fain to come in for a share + O' that paand at th' wife knows all abaat. + + + +What it is to be a Mother. + + +A'a, dear! what a life has a mother! + At leeast, if they're hamper'd like me, +Thro' mornin' to neet ther's some bother, + An' ther will be, aw guess, wol aw dee. + +Ther's mi chap, an misen, an' six childer, + Six o'th' roughest, aw think, under th' sun, +Aw'm sartin sometimes they'd bewilder + Old Joab, wol his patience wor done. + +They're i' mischief i' ivery corner, + An' ther tongues they seem niver at rest; +Ther's one shaatin' "Little Jack Horner," + An' another "The realms o' the blest." + +Aw'm sure if a body's to watch 'em, + They mun have een at th' back o' ther yed; +For quiet yo niver can catch 'em + Unless they're asleep an' i' bed. + +For ther's somdy comes runnin to tell us + 'At one on em's takken wi' fits; +Or ther's two on 'em feightin for th' bellus, + An' rivin' ther clooas all i' bits. + +In a mornin' they're all weshed an' tidy'd, + But bi nooin they're as black as mi shoe; +To keep a lot cleean, if yo've tried it, + Yo know 'at ther's summat to do. + +When my felly comes hooam to his drinkin', + Aw try to be gradely, an' straight; +For when all's nice an' cleean, to mi thinkin', + He enjoys better what ther's to ait. + +If aw tell him aw'm varry near finished + Wi allus been kept in a fuss, +He says, as he looks up astonished, + "Why, aw niver see owt 'at tha does." + +But aw wonder who does all ther mendin', + Weshes th' clooas, an cleans th' winders an' flags? +But for me they'd have noa spot to stand in-- + They'd be lost i' ther filth an' ther rags. + +But it allus wor soa, an' it will be, + A chap thinks' at a woman does nowt; +But it ne'er bothers me what they tell me, + For men havn't a morsel o' thowt. + +But just harken to me wol aw'm tellin' + Ha aw tew to keep ivery thing straight; +An' aw'l have yo for th' judge if yor willin', + For aw want nowt but what aw think's reight. + +Ov a Monday aw start o' my weshin', + An' if th' day's fine aw get um all dried; +Ov a Tuesday aw fettle mi kitchen, + An' mangle, an' iron beside. + +Ov a Wednesday, then aw've mi bakin'; + Ov a Thursday aw reckon to brew; +Ov a Friday all th' carpets want shakin', + An' aw've th' bedrooms to clean an' dust throo. + +Then o'th' Setterday, after mi markets, + Stitch on buttons, an' th' stockins' to mend, +Then aw've all th' Sundy clooas to luk ovver, + An' that brings a week's wark to its end. + +Then o'th' Sundy ther's cooking 'em th' dinner, + It's ther only warm meal in a wick; +Tho' ther's some say aw must be a sinner, + For it's paving mi way to Old Nick. + +But a chap mun be like to ha' summat, + An' aw can't think it's varry far wrang, +Just to cook him an' th' childer a dinner, + Tho' it may mak me rayther too thrang. + +But if yor a wife an' a mother, + Yo've yor wark an' yor duties to mind; +Yo mun leearn to tak nowt as a bother, + An' to yor own comforts be blind. + +But still, just to seer all ther places, + When they're gethred raand th' harston at neet, +Fill'd wi six roosy-red, smilin' faces; + It's nooan a despisable seet. + +An, aw connot help thinkin' an' sayin', + (Tho' yo may wonder what aw can mean), +'At if single, aw sooin should be playin' + Coortin tricks, an' be weddin' agean. + + + +What they say. + + +They say 'at its a waste o' brass--a nasty habit too,-- +A thing 'at noa reight-minded chap wod ivver think to do; + Maybe they're reight; +They say it puts one's brains to sleep, an maks a felly daft,-- +Aw've hearken'd to ther doctrins, then aw've lit mi pipe an laft, + At ther consait. + +At morn when startin for mi wark, a bit o' bacca's sweet, +An aw raillee should'nt like to be withaat mi pipe at neet, + It comforts me. +An if awm worritted an vext, wi' bothers durin th' day, +Aw tak a wiff, an in a claad, aw puff 'em all away, + An off they flee. + +They tell me its a poison, an its bad effects they show; +Aw nivver contradict 'em but aw think its varry slow, + An bad to tell; +They say it leeads to drinkin, an drink leeads to summat war; +But aw know some at nivver smook 'at's getten wrang as far + As me misel. + +They say its an example 'at we did'nt owt to set,-- +For owt 'at's nowt young fowk sooin leearn, but dooant soa sooin forget, + That's varry true. +But aw shall be contented, if when comes mi time to dee, +To smook a pipe o' bacca is th' warst thing they've lent throo me: + Aw'st manage throo, + +They say it maks one lazy, an time slips by unawares,-- +It may be soa, an if it is, that's noa consarn o' theirs; + Aw work mi share. +If it prevents fowk meddlin wi' th' affairs ov other men, +'Twod happen be as weel, aw think, if they'd to smook thersen;-- + They've time to spare. + +But what they say ne'er matters, for aw act upon a plan, +If th' world affooards a pleasure awll enjoy it if aw can, + At morn or neet; +They may praich agean mi bacca, an may looad it wi' abuse, +But aw think its a gooid crayter if its put to a gooid use. + Pass me a leet. + + + +Young Jockey. + + +Young Jockey he bowt him a pair o' new shooin, + Ooin, ooin, ry diddle dooin! +Young Jockey he bowt him a pair o' new shooin, +For he'd made up his mind he'd be wed varry sooin; +An he went to ax Jenny his wife for to be, +But shoo sed, "Nay, aw'll ne'er wed a hawbuck like thee, + Thi legs luk too lanky, + Thi heead is too cranky, +Its better bi th' hawf an old maid aw should dee!" + +Young Jockey then went an he bowt him a gun, + Un, un, ry diddle dun! +Young Jockey then went an he bowt him a gun, +For his ivvery hooap i' this wide world wor done; +An he went an tell'd Jenny, to end all his pains, +He'd made up his mind 'at he'd blow aght his brains, + But shoo cared net a pin, + An shoo sed wi' a grin,-- +"Befoor they're blown aght tha man get some put in." + + + +Missed his Mark. + + +Aw like fowrk to succeed i' life if they've an honest aim, +An even if they chonce to trip awm varry loath to blame; +Its sich a simple thing sometimes maks failure or success, +Th' prize oft slips by strugglin men to them 'at's striven less. +Aw envy nubdy Fortun's smiles, aw lang for 'em misen,-- +But them at win her favors should dispense 'em nah an then. +An them 'at's blest wi' sunshine let 'em think o' those i'th' dark, +An nivver grudge a helpin hand to him 'at's missed his mark. + +We connot allus hit it,--an ther's monny a toilin brain, +Has struggled for a lifetime, but its efforts proved in vain; +An monny a hardy son ov toil has worn his life away, +An all his efforts proved in vain to keep poverty at bay; +Wol others, bi a lucky stroke, have carved ther way to fame, +An ivvery thing they've tackled on has proved a winnin' game; +Let those who've met wi' fav'rin winds to waft-life's little bark, +Just spare a thowt, an gie a lift, to him 'at's missed his mark. + +Aw hate to hear a purse-praad chap keep booastin of his gains,-- +Sneerin at humble workin fowk who're richer far i' brains! +Aw hate all meean hard graspin slaves, who mak ther gold ther god,-- +For if they could grab all ther is, awm pratty sewer they wod. +Aw hate fowk sanctimonious, whose humility is pride, +Who, when they see a chap distressed, pass by on tother side! +Aw hate those drones 'at share earth's hive, but shirk ther share o' wark, +Yet curl ther nooas at some poor soul, who's toiled, yet missed his mark. + +Give me that man whose heart can feel for others griefs an woes;-- +Who loves his friends an nivver bears a grudge ageean his foes; +Tho' kindly words an cheerin smiles are all he can bestow,-- +If he gives that wi' willin heart, he does some gooid below. +An when th' time comes, as come it will, when th' race is at an end, +He'll dee noa poorer for what gooid he's ivver done a friend. +An when they gently put him by,--unconscious, stiff an stark, +His epetaph shall be, 'Here's one 'at didn't miss his mark.' + + + +When Lost. + + + If at hooam yo have to tew, + Though yor comforts may be few, +An yo think yore lot is hard, and yor prospects bad; + Yo may swear ther's nowt gooas reight, + Wi' yor friends an wi' yor meyt, +But yo'll nivver know ther vally till j'o've lost em, lad. + + Though yo've but a humble cot, + An yore share's a seedy lot; +Though yo goa to bed i'th dumps, an get up i'th mornin mad, + Yet yo'll find its mich moor wise, + What yo have to fondly prize, +For yo'll nivver know ther vally till yo've lost em, lad. + + + +Mak a Gooid Start. + + +Let's mak a gooid start, nivver fear + What grum'lers an growlers may say; +That nivver need cause yo a tear, + For whear ther's a will ther's a way. +If yo've plenty to ait an to drink, + Nivver heed, though yor wark may be rough; +If yo'll nobbut keep hooapful, aw think, + Yo'll find th' way to mend plain enuff. + +If yor temper gets saar'd an cross, + An yor mind is disturbed an perplext; +Or if troubled wi' sickness an loss, + An yor poverty maks yo feel vext;-- +Nivver heed! for its fooilish to freeat + Abaat things at yo connot prevent; +An i'th futer ther may be a treeat, + 'At'll pay for all th' sad days you've spent, + +I' this new life beginnin,--who knows + What for each on us may be i' stoor? +For th' river o' Time as it flows, + Weshes th' threshold o' ivvery man's door. +At some it leeavs little, may be, + An at others deposits a prize; +But if yo be watchful yo'll see + Ther's a trifle for each one 'at tries. + +Ther's a time booath to wish an decide;-- + For a chap at ne'er langs nivver tews;-- +If yo snuff aght ambition an pride, + Yo sink a chap's heart in his shoes, +Wish for summat 'at's honest an reight, + An detarmine yo'll win it or dee! +Yo'll find obstacles slink aght o'th gate, + An th' black claads o' daat quickly flee. + +Young men should seek labor an gains, + Old men wish for rest an repose;-- +Young lasses want brave, lovin swains, + An hanker for th' finest o' clooas. +Old wimmin,--a cosy foirside, + An a drop o' gooid rum i' ther teah; +Little childer, a horse they can ride, + Or a dolly to nurse o' ther knee. + +One thing a chap cant do withaat, + Is a woman to share his estate; +An mooast wimmen, ther isn't a daat, + Think life a dull thing baght a mate. +Ther's a sayin booath ancient an wise, + An its one at should be acted upon;-- +Yo'll do weel, to accept its advice,-- + To, "Begin as yo meean to goa on." + + + +Stop at Hooam. + + +"Tha wodn't goa an leave me, Jim, + All lonely by mysel? +My een at th' varry thowts grow dim-- + Aw connot say farewell. + +Tha vow'd tha couldn't live unless + Tha saw me every day, +An' said tha knew noa happiness + When aw wor foorced away. + +An th' tales tha towld, I know full weel, + Wor true as gospel then; +What is it, lad, 'at ma's thee feel + Soa strange--unlike thisen? + +Ther's raam enuff, aw think tha'll find, + I'th taan whear tha wor born, +To mak a livin, if tha'll mind + To ha' faith i' to-morn. + +Aw've mony a time goan to mi wark + Throo claads o' rain and sleet; +All's seem'd soa dull, soa drear, an' dark, + It ommust mud be neet. + +But then, when braikfast time's come raand, + Aw've seen th' sun's cheerin ray, +An' th' heavy lukkin claads have slunk + Like skulkin lads away. + +An' then bi nooin it's shooan soa breet + Aw've sowt some shade to rest, +An' as aw've paddled hooam at neet, + Glorious it's sunk i'th west. + +An' tho' a claad hangs ovver thee, + (An' trouble's hard to bide), +Have patience, lad, an' wait an' see + What's hid o'th' tother side. + +If aw wor free to please mi mind, + Aw'st niver mak this stur; +But aw've a mother ommust blind, + What mud become o' her? + +Tha knows shoo cared for me, when waik + An' helpless ivery limb, +Aw'm feeard her poor owd heart ud braik + If aw'd to leave her, Jim. + +Aw like to hear thee talk o' th' trees + 'At tower up to th' sky, +An' th' burds 'at flutterin i'th' breeze, + Lie glitterin' jewels fly. + +Woll th' music of a shepherd's reed + May gently float along, +Lendin its tender notes to lead + Some fair maid's simple song; + +An' flaars 'at grow o' ivery side, + Such as we niver see; +But here at hooam, at ivery stride, + There's flaars for thee an' me. + +Aw care net for ther suns soa breet, + Nor warblin melody; +Th' clink o' thi clogs o' th' flags at neet + Saands sweeter, lad, to me. + +An' tho' aw wear a gingham gaan, + A claat is noa disgrace; +Tha'll niver find a heart moor warm + Beat under silk or lace. + +Then settle daan, tak my advice, + Give up this wish to rooam! +An' if tha luks, tha'll find lots nice + Worth stoppin' for at hooam." + +"God bless thee, Jenny! dry that e'e, + An' gi'e us howd thi hand! +For words like thoase, throo sich as thee, + What mortal could withstand! + +It isn't mich o'th' world aw know, + But aw con truly say, +A faithful heart's too rich to throw + Withaat a thowt away. + +So here aw'll stay, and should fate fraan, + Aw'll tew for thine and thee, +An' seek for comfort when cast daan, + I'th' sunleet o' thi e'e." + + + +Advice to Jenny. + + +Jenny, Jenny, dry thi ee, + An' dunnot luk soa sad; +It grieves me varry mich to see + Tha freeats abaat yon lad; +For weel tha knows, withaat a daat, + Whearivver he may be, +Tho fond o' rammellin' abaat, + He's allus true to thee. + +Tha'll learn mooar sense, lass, in a while, + For wisdom comes wi' time, +An' if tha lives tha'll leearn to smile + At troubles sich as thine; +A faithful chap is better far, + Altho' he likes to rooam, +Nor one 'at does what isn't reight, + An' sits o'th' hearth at hooam. + +Tha needn't think 'at wedded life + Noa disappointment brings; +Tha munnot think to keep a chap + Teed to thi appron strings. +Soa dry thi een, they're varry wet, + An' let thi heart be glad, +For tho' tha's wed a rooamer, yet, + Tha's wed a honest lad. + +Ther's mony a lady, rich an' great, + 'At's sarvents at her call, +Wod freely change her grand estate + For thine tha thinks soa small: +For riches cannot buy content, + Soa tho' thi joys be few, +Tha's one ther's nowt con stand anent,-- + A heart 'at's kind an' true. + +Soa when he comes luk breet an' gay, + An' meet him wi' a kiss, +Tha'll find him mooar inclined to stay + Wi treatment sich as this; +But if thi een luk red like that, + He'll see all's wrang at once, +He'll leet his pipe, an' don his hat, + An' bolt if he's a chonce. + + + +Jockey an Dolly. + + +Th' sun shone breet at early morn, + Burds sang sweetly on the trees; +Larks wor springin from the corn, + Tender blossoms sowt the breeze. +Jockey whistled as he went + O'er rich meadows wet wi' dew; +In his breast wor sweet content, + For his wants an cares were few. + Dolly passed him on his way, + Fresh an sweet an fair wor she; + Jockey lost his heart that day, + To the maid ov Salterlee. + Jockey an Dolly + Had allus been jolly, +Till Love shot his arrow an wounded the twain; + Their days then pass sadly, + Yet man an maid madly, +In spite ov the torture, they nursed the sweet pain. + + Since that day did jockey pine, + Dolly shyly kept apart; + Still shoo milk'd her willin kine, + Tho' shoo nursed a braikin heart, + But one neet they met i'th' fold, + When a silv'ry mooin did shine; + Jockey then his true love told, + An he axt, "will't thou be mine?" + Tears ov joy filled Dolly's een, + As shoo answered modestly; + Dolly nah is Jockey's queen, + Th' bonniest wife i' Salterlee. + Jockey an Dolly, + Are livin an jolly, +May blessins for ivver attend i' ther train; + Ther days they pass gladly, + Noa moor they feel sadly, +For two hearts are for ivver bound fast i' Love's chain. + + + +Dooant Forget the Old Fowks. + + +Dooant forget the old fowks,-- + They've done a lot for thee; +Remember tha'd a mother once, + Who nursed thi on her knee. +A father too, who tew'd all day + To mak thi what tha art, +An dooant forget tha owes a debt, + An strive to pay a part. + +Just think ha helpless once tha wor,-- + A tiny little tot; +But tha wor given th' cosiest nook + I' all that little cot. +Thy ivvery want wor tended to, + An soothed thy ivvery pain, +They didn't spare love, toil or care, + An they'd do it o'er ageean. +An all they crave for what they gave, + Is just a kindly word;-- +A fond "God bless yo parents," + Wod be th' sweetest saand they've heard. + + Then dooant forget the old fowks, &c. + +Tha's entered into business nah,-- + Tha'rt dooin pratty weel; +Tha's won an tha desarves success,-- + Aw know tha'rt true as steel. +Tha'rt growin rich, an lives i' style, + Tha's sarvents at thi call; +But dooant forget thi mother, lad, + To her tha owes it all. +Thi father totters in his walk, + His hair is growin grey; +He cannot work as once he did, + He's ommost had his day. +But th' heart 'at loved thi when a child, + Is still as warm an true; +His pride is in his lad's success,-- + He hopes tha loves him too. +But what they long for mooast ov all, + Is just that kindly word, +"God bless yo, my dear parents!" + Wod be th' sweetest saand they've heard. + +Then dooant forget the old fowks, &c, + + + +Soa Bonny. + + +Aw've travell'd o'er land, an aw've travell'd o'er sea, +An aw've seen th' grandest lasses 'at ivver can be; +But aw've nivver met one 'at could mak mi heart glad, +Like her,--for oh! shoo wor bonny mi lad. + +Shoo wornt too gooid, for her temper wor hot, +An when her tongue started, shoo wag'd it a lot; +An it worn't all pleasant, an some on it bad, +But oh! shoo wor bonny!--soa bonny mi lad. + +Consaited and cocky, an full o' what's nowt, +An shoo'd say nasty things withaat ivver a thowt; +An shood try ivvery way, just to mak me get mad;--- +For shoo knew shoo wor bonny,--soa bonny mi lad. + +Fowk called me a fooil to keep hingin araand, +But whear shoo'd once stept aw could worship the graand; +For th' seet ov her face cheer'd mi heart when 'twor sad, +For shoo wor soa bonny,--soa bonny mi lad. + +But shoo wor like th' rest,--false,--false in her heart; +Shoo made me to love her,--an Cupid's sharp dart +Wor nobbut her fun,--wi' decait it wor clad;-- +But then, shoo wor bonny;--soa bonny mi lad. + +Shoo sooin wed another,--noa better nor me, +An aw hooap shoo'll be happy, though my life is dree; +An aw'll try to submit, though shoo treated me bad, +But oh! mi poor heart is nigh brokken mi lad. + +Ther may come a time when her passion has cooiled, +Shoo may think ov a chap shoo unfeelingly fooiled; +Shoo may seek me agean;--if shoo does,--well, by gad! +Aw'll welcome her back. Shoo's soa bonny mi lad. + + + +The Linnet. + + +Little linnet,--stop a minnit,-- + Let me have a tawk with thee: +Tell me what this life has in it, + Maks thee seem so full o' glee? +Why is pleasure i' full measure, + Thine throo rooasy morn to neet, +Has ta fun some wondrous treasure, + Maks thi be for ivver breet? + + ---------- + +Sang the linnet,--"wait a minnit, + Let me whisper in thine ear; +Life has lots o' pleasure in it, + Though a shadow's oftimes near. +Ivvery shoolder has its burden, + Ivvery heart its weight o' care; +But if bravely yo accept it, + Duty finds some pleasure thear. +Lazy louts dooant know what rest is,-- + Those who labor find rest sweet; +Grumling souls ne'er know what best is,-- + Blessins wither 'neath ther feet. +Sorrow needs noa invitation,-- + Joy is shy an must be sowt; +Grief seeks onny sitiwation,-- + Willin to accept for nowt. +All pure pleasure is retirin, + Allus modest,--shrinkin,--shy,-- +Like a violet,--but goa seek it, + An yo'll find it by-an-bye. +Birds an blossoms,--shaars an sunshine, + Strive to cheer man on his way; +An its nobbut them 'at willn't, + 'At cant taste some joy each day. +Awm a teeny little songster,-- + All mi feathers plainly grave; +But aw wish noa breeter plumage, + Awm content wi' what aw have. +An mi mate is just as lovin, + An he sings as sweet to me,-- +An his message nivver varies,-- + 'Love me love, as aw love thee.' +An together, o'er awr nestlins, + We keep watch, i' hooaps to see, +They may sooin share in awr gladness + Full ov love,--from envy free. +Grumbler,--cast a look araand thi;-- + Is this world or thee to blame? +Joys an blessins all surraand thi,-- + Dar to grummel?--fie,--for shame!" + + ---------- + +An that linnet, in a minnit, + Flitted off, the trees among; +An those joys its heart had in it, + Ovverflowed i' limpid song. +An it left me sittin, blinkin, + As it trill'd its nooats wi glee;-- +An truly,--to my way o' thinkin, + Th' linnet's far moor sense nor me. + + + +Mary Jane. + + +One Easter Mundy, for a spree, +To Bradforth, Mary Jane an me, +Decided we wod tak a jaunt, +An have a dinner wi mi hont; +For Mary Jane, aw'd have yo know, +Had promised me, some time ago, +To be mi wife,--an soa aw thowt +Aw'd introduce her, as aw owt. +Mi hont wor pleeased to see us booath,-- +To mak fowk welcome nivver looath,-- +An th' table grooaned wi richest fare, +An one an all wor pressed to share, +Mi sweetheart made noa moor to do. +Shoo buckled on an sooin gate throe; +Mi hont sed, as shoo filled her glass,-- +"Well, God bless thi belly, lass!" + +Mi Mary Jane is quite genteel, +Shoo's fair an slim, an dresses weel; +Shoo luks soa delicate an fair, +Yo'd fancy shoo could live on air. +But thear yo'd find yor judgment missed, +For shoo's a mooast uncommon twist; +Whear once shoo's called to get a snack, +It's seldom at they've axt her back. +To a cookshop we went one neet, +An th' stuff at vanished aght o'th' seet, +Made th' chap at sarved us gape an grin, +But shoo went on an tuckt it in; +An when aw axt ha mich we'd had, +He sed, "It's worth five shillin, lad." +Aw sighed as aw put daan mi brass,-- +"Well, God bless thi belly lass!" + +But when a lass's een shine bright, +Yo ne'er think ov her appetite; +Her love wor what aw lang'd to gain, +Nor did mi efforts prove in vain, +For we wor wed on Leeds Fair Day, +An started life on little pay. +But aw've noa reason to regret, +Her appetite shoo keeps up yet. +Eight years have passed sin shoo wor mine, +An nah awr family numbers nine. +A chap when wedded life begins, +Seldom expects a brace o' twins; +But Mary Jane's browt that for me,-- +Shoo's nursin th' last pair on her knee; +An as aw th' bowls o' porrige pass, +Aw say, "God bless thi belly lass!" + +We have noa wealth i' gold or lands, +But cheerful hearts, an willin hands; +Altho soa monny maaths to fill, +We live i' hooaps an labor still. +Ther little limbs when stronger grown, +Will be a fortun we shall own. +We're in a mooild thro morn to neet, +But rest comes to us doubly sweet, +An fowk learn patience, yo can bet, +When they've to care for sich a set. +But we can honestly declare, +Ther isn't one at we can spare. +Ther little tricks cause monny a smile, +An help to leeten days o' toil. +An joyfully aw say, "Bith' mass! +Well, God bless thi childer, lass." + + + +My Lass. + + +Fairest lass amang the monny, + Hair as black as raven, O. +Net another lass as bonny, + Lives i'th' dales ov Craven, O. +City lasses may be fairer, + May be donned i' silks an laces, +But ther's nooan whose charms are rarer, + Nooan can show sich bonny faces. +Yorksher minstrel tune thy lyre, + Show thou art no craven, O; +In thy strains 'at mooast inspire, + Sing the praise ov Craven, O. + +Purest breezes toss their tresses, + Tint ther cheeks wi' rooases, O, +An old Sol wi' warm caresses, + Mak 'em bloom like pooasies, O. +Others may booast birth an riches, + May have studied grace ov motion, +But they lack what mooast bewitches,-- + Hearts 'at love wi' pure devotion. +Perfect limbs an round full bosoms, + Sich as set men ravin, O, +Only can be faand i' blossoms, + Sich as bloom i' Craven, O, + +An amang the fairest,--sweetest, + Ther's net sich a brave en, O; +For her beauty's the completest, + Yo can find i' Craven, O. +Ivvery charm 'at mother Nature + Had to give, shoo placed upon her,--- +Modest ways, an comely feature-- + Health ov body,--soul ov honor +Isn't shoo a prize worth winnin? + An a gem worth savin, O? +Smile on,--sooin yo'll stop yor grinnin, + When my lass leeaves Craven, O. + + + +A Gooid Kursmiss Day. + + +It wor Kursmiss day,--we wor ready for fun, +Th' puddin wor boil'd an th' rooast beef wor done; +Th' ale wor i'th' cellar, an th' spice-cake i'th' bin, +An th' cheese wor just lively enuff to walk in. +Th' lads wor all donned i' ther hallidy clooas, +An th' lasses,--they each luckt as sweet as a rooas; +An th' old wife an me, set at each end o'th' hob, +An th' foir wor splutterin raand a big cob, + An aw sed, "Nah, old lass, + Tho we havn't mich brass, + We shall celebrate Kursmiss to-day." + +Th' young fowk couldn't rest, they kept lukkin at th' clock, +Yo'd a thowt 'twor a wick sin they'd had any jock, +But we winkt one at tother as mich as to say, +They mun wait for th' reight time, for ther mother has th' kay. +Then they all went to th' weshus at stood just aghtside, +An they couldn't ha made mich moor din if they'd tried, +For they skriked an they giggled an shaated like mad, +An th' wife sed, "They're happy," an aw sed, "Awm glad, + An be thankful old lass, + Tho we havn't mich brass, + We shall celebrate Kursmiss to-day." + +When twelve o'clock struck, th' wife says "aw'll prepare, +An ov ivvery gooid thing they shall all have a share; +But aw think some o'th' lasses should help me for once," +An aw answered, "ov coorse,--they'll be glad ov a chonce." +Soa aw went to call em, but nivver a sign +Could aw find o' them strackle-brained childer o' mine; +An when th' wife went ith' cellar for th' puddin an th' beef, +An saw th' oppen winder, it filled her wi grief, + An shoo sed, "nay old lad, + This is rayther too bad, + We can't celebrate Kursmiss to-day," + +Aw went huntin raand, an ith' weshus aw faand, +Some bits o' cold puddin, beef, spicecake an cheese; +Then aw heard a big shaat, an when aw lukt agivt, +Them taistrels wor laffin as hard as yo pleeas. +Aw felt rayther mad,--but ov coorse awm ther dad, +An as it wor Kursmiss aw tuk it as fun; +But what made me capt, wor th' ale worn't tapt, +Soa mi old wife an me stuck to that wol 'twor done. + An aw railly did feel + We enjoyed ussen weel, + An we had a gooid Kursmiss that day. + + + +Mi Love's Come Back. + + +Let us have a jolly spree, +An wi' joy an harmonie, +Let the merry moments flee, + For mi love's come back. +O, the days did slowly pass, +When awd lost mi little lass, +But nah we'll have a glass, + For mi love's come back. + +O, shoo left me in a hig, +An shoo didn't care a fig, +But nah aw'll donce a jig, + For mi love's come back, +An aw know though far away, +'At her heart ne'er went astray, +An awst ivver bless the day, + For mi love's come back. + +When shoo axt me yesterneet, +What made mi een soa breet? +Aw says, "Why cant ta see'ts + 'Coss mi love's come back," +Then aw gave her sich a kiss, +An shoo tuk it nooan amiss;-- +An awm feeard awst brust wi bliss, + For mi love's come back. + +Nah, awm gooin to buy a ring, +An a creddle an a swing, +Ther's noa tellin what may spring, + Nah, mi love's come back; +O, aw nivver thowt befooar, +'At sich joy could be i' stooar, +But nah aw'll grieve noa moor, + For mi love's come back. + + + +A Wife. + + +Who is it, when one starts for th' day +A cheerin word is apt to say, +At sends yo leeter on yor way? + A wife. + +An who, when th' wark is done at neet, +Sits harknin for yor clogs i'th' street, +An sets warm slippers for yor feet? + A wife. + +An who, when yo goa weary in, +Bids th' childer mak a little din, +An smiles throo th' top o'th' heead to th' chin? + A wife. + +An who, when troubled, vext an tried, +Comes creepin softly to yor side, +An soothes a grief 'at's hard to bide? + A wife. + +An when yor ommost driven mad, +Who quiets yo daan, an calls yo "lad," +An shows yo things are nooan soa bad? + A wife. + +Who nivver once forgets that day, +When yo've to draw yor bit o' pay, +But comes to meet yo hawf o'th' way? + A wife. + +Who is it, when yo hooamward crawl, +Taks all yo have, an thinks it small; +Twice caants it, an says, "Is this all?" + A wife. + + + +All Tawk. + + +Some tawk becoss they think they're born + Wi' sich a lot o' wit; +Some seem to tawk to let fowk know + They're born withaat a bit. +Some tawk i' hooaps 'at what they say + May help ther fellow men; +But th' inooast 'at tawk just tawk becoss + They like to hear thersen. + + + +Aw Can't Tell. + + +Aw nivver rammel mich abaat, + Aw've summat else to do; +But yet aw think, withaat a daat, + Aw've seen a thing or two. + +One needn't leeav his native shoor, + An visit foreign lands,-- +At hooam he'll find a gooid deeal moor + Nor what he understands. + +Aw can't tell why a empty heead + Should be held up soa heigh, +Or why a suit o' clooas should leead + Soa monny fowk astray. + +Aw can't tell why a child 'at's born + To lord or lady that, +Should be soa worship'd, wol they scorn + A poor man's little brat. + +Aw can't tell why a workin man + Should wear his life away, +Wol maisters grasp at all they can, + An grudge a chap his pay. + +Aw can't tell why a lot o' things + Are as they seem to be; +But if its nowt to nubdy else, + Ov coorse its nowt to me. + + + +Happen Thine. + + +Then its O! for a wife, sich a wife as aw know! +Who's thowts an desires are pure as the snow, +Who nivver thinks virtue a reason for praise, +An who shudders when tell'd ov this world's wicked ways. + +Shoo isn't a gossip, shoo keeps to her hooam, +Shoo's a welcome for friends if they happen to come; +Shoo's tidy an cleean, let yo call when yo may, +Shoo's nivver upset or put aght ov her way. + +At morn when her husband sets off to his wark, +Shoo starts him off whistlin, as gay as a lark; +An at neet if he's weary he hurries straight back, +An if worried forgets all his cares in a crack. + +If onny naybor is sick or distressed, +Shoe sends what shoo can an allus her best; +An if onny young fowk chonce to fall i' disgrace, +They fly straight to her and they tell her ther case. + +Shoo harkens--an then in a motherly tone +Sympathises as tho they were bairns ov her own; +Shoo shows 'em ther faults, an points aght th' best way, +To return to th' reight rooad, if they've wandered astray. + +Soa kindly shoo tries to set tangled things straight, +Yo'd ommost goa wrang to let her set yo reight. +Shoo helps and consoles the poor, weary an worn,-- +Shoo's an angel baght wings if one ivver wor born. + +Shoo can join a mild frolic if fun's to be had, +For her principal joy is to see others glad; +Shoo's a jewel, an th' chap who can call her his own, +Has noa 'cashion to hunt for th' philosopher's stooan. + +If failins shoo has, they're unknown unto me,-- +Shoo's as near to perfection as mortal can be;-- +To know shoo's net mine, does sometimes mak me sad;-- +If shoo's thine, then tha owt to be thankful, owd lad. + + + +Contrasts. + + +If yo've a fancy for a spree, +Goa up to Lundun, same as me, +Yo'll find ther's lots o' things to see, + To pleeas yo weel. +If seem isn't quite enuff, +Yo needn't tew an waste yor puff, +To find some awkard sooarts o' stuff + At yo can feel. + +Yo'll nobbut need to set yor shoe +On some poleeceman's tender toa,-- +A varry simple thing to do,-- + An wi a crack +Enuff to mak a deead man jump, +Daan comes his staff, an leeaves a lump, +An then he'll fling yo wi a bump, + Flat o' yor back. + +If signs o' riches suit yo best, +Yer een can easily be blest; +Or if yo seek for fowk distrest, + They're easy fun, +Wi faces ommost worn to nowt, +An clooas at arn't worth a thowt, +Yet show ha long wi want they've fowt, + Till fairly done. + +Like a big ball it rolls along, +A nivver ending, changing throng, +Mixt up together, waik an strong,-- + An gooid an bad. +Virtues an vices side bi side,-- +Poverty slinkin after pride,-- +Wealth's waste, an want at's hard to bide, + Some gay, some sad. + +It ommost maks one have a daat, +(To see some strut, some crawl abaat, +One in a robe, one in a claat,) + If all's just square. +It may be better soa to be, +But to a simpleton like me, +It's hard to mak sich things agree; + It isn't fair. + + + +To Mally. + + +Its long sin th' parson made us one, + An yet it seems to me, +As we've gooan thrustin, toilin on, + Time's made noa change i' thee. +Tha grummeld o' thi weddin day,-- + Tha's nivver stopt it yet; +An aw expect tha'll growl away + Th' last bit o' breeath tha'll get. + +Growl on, old lass, an ease thi mind! + It nivver troubles me; +Aw've proved 'at tha'rt booath true an kind,-- + Ther's lots 'at's war nor thee. +An if tha's but a hooamly face, + Framed in a white starched cap, +Ther's nooan wod suit as weel i'th' place,-- + Ther's nooan aw'd like to swap. + +Soa aw'll contented jog along,-- + It's th' wisest thing to do; +Aw've seldom need to use im tongue, + Tha tawks enuff for two. +Tha cooks mi vittals, maks mi bed, + An finds me clooas to don; +An if to-day aw worn't wed, + Aw'd say to thee,--"Come on." + + + +Th' State o' th' Poll. A nop tickle illusion. + + +Sal Sanguine wor a bonny lass, + Ov that yo may be sewer; +Shoo had her trubbles tho', alas! + An th' biggest wor her yure. +Noa lass shoo knew as mich could spooart, + But oft shoo'd heeard it sed, +They thank'd ther stars they'd nowt o'th sooart, + It wor soa varry red. + +Young fowk we know are seldom wise,-- + Experience taiches wit;-- +Some freeat 'coss th' color o' ther eyes + Is net as black as jet. +Wol others seem quite in a stew, + An can't tell whear to bide, +'Coss they've black een asteead o' blue,-- + An twenty things beside. + +Aw'm foorced to own Sal Sanguine's nop, + It had a ruddy cast; +An once shoo heeard a silly fop, + Say as he hurried past-- +"There goes the girl I'd like to wed,-- + 'Twould grant my heart's desire; +In spring pull carrots from her head,-- + In winter 'twould save fire." + +Her cheeks wi' passion fairly burned,-- + Shoo made a fearful vow, +To have to some fresh color turned + That yure upon her brow. +Shoo knew a chap 'at kept a shop, + An dyed all sooarts o' things; +An off shoo went withaat a stop, + As if shoo'd flown wi' wings. + +Shoo fan him in, an tell'd her tale, + An tears stood in her ee; +"Why, Sal," he sed, "few chap's wod fail + If axt, to dye for thee. +What color could ta like it done? + Aw'll pleeas thi if aw can; +We'st ha some bother aw'll be bun, + But aw think aw know a plan." + +"Why mak it black, lad, if tha can; + Black's sewer to suit me best; +Aw dooant care if its black an tan,-- + Mi life's been sich a pest. +For tho' aw say 'at should'nt say't, + Ther's lots noa better bred, +Curl up ther nooas an cut me straight, + Becoss mi yure's soa red." + +"Come on ageean to-morn at neet, + Aw'll have all ready, lass; +An if aw connot do it reight + Aw'll ax thi for noa brass." +Soa Sally skuttered hooam agean, + An into bed shoo popt, +Her fowk wor capt what it could meean, + For thear th' next day shoo stopt, + +When th' evenin coom shoo up an dress'd, + An off shoo went to th' place; +Shoo seem'd like some poor soul possess'd, + Or one i' dire disgrace. +"Come here," sed th' chap, "all's ready nah, + It's stewin here i'th' pan; +Aw'll dip thi heead,--hold,--steady nah! + Just bide it if tha can." + +Poor Sally skriked wi' all her might, + But as all th' doors wor shut, +He nobbut sed, "nah lass, keep quiet, + It weant do baght its wut. +To leearn mi trade, for twenty year, + Throo morn to neet aw've toiled, +An know at nawther hanks nor heeads, + Are weel dyed unless boiled. + +But as tha'rt varry tender, + An aw've takken th' job i' hand, +Aw'll try it rayther cooiler,-- + But then, th' color might'nt stand." +An for a while he swilled an slopt, + Wol shoo wor oinmost smoor'd; +An when he wrung it aght an stopt, + He varry near wor floored. + +For wol thrang workin wi' her yure, + He'd been soa taen wi' th' case, +He'd nivver gein a thowt befooar, + Abaat her neck an face. +But nah he saw his sad mistak, + Yet net a word he sed; +Her skin wor all a deep blue black, + Her yure, a dark braan red. + +He gate her hooam sooin as he could, + Shoo slyly slipt up stairs; +An chuckled to think ha shoo should + Tak all th' fowk unawares. +Shoo slept that neet just like a top, + Next morn shoo rose content, +Shoo rubb'd some tutty on her nop, + An then daan stairs shoo went. + +All th' childer screamed as if they'd fits,-- + Th' old fowk they stared like mad;-- +"Nay, Sally! has ta lost thi wits? + Or has ta seen th' Old Lad?" +Shoo smil'd an sed, "Well, what's to do?" + "Gooid gracious! whear's ta been? +Thi face has turned a breet sky blue, + Thi yure's a bottle green!" + +Shoo flew to th' lukkin glass to see, + An then her heart stood still; +"That villan sed 'he'd dee for me,' + Aw'll swing for him, aw will!" +An then shoo set her daan o'th flooar, + As if her heart wod braik; +An th' childer gethered raand to rooar, + But th' old fowk nivver spaik. + +I' time her grief grew less, ov course, + Shoo raased hersen at last; +Shoo weshed, an swill'd, but things lukt worse, + For th' color still proved fast. +They sent a bobby after th' chap, + He browt him in a crack; +Says he, "It's been a slight mishap, + Aw've made a small mistak. + +But just to prove aw meant noa ill, + Mi offer, friends, is this; +If shoo'll consent to say 'I will,' + Aw'll tak her as shoo is. +Tho' shoo luks black befooar we're wed, + That's sewer to wear away; +Aw'd like to own her yure soa red, + Until time turns it grey." + +Says shoo, "awm feeard tha nobbut mocks, + Tha'rt strivin to misleead." +"Nay lass," he sed, "aw've turned thy locks, + But tha's fair turned my heead." +"Aw think yo'd better far agree," + Sed th' old fowk in a breeath; +"Will ta ha me?" "Will ta ha me?" + "An nah we'll stick till deeath." + +Sooin after that th' law made 'em one, + An sin that time awm sewer; +He ne'er regretted th' job he'd done, + Nor shoo her ruddy yure. +An when fowk ax'd her ha to get + Sich joy as hers, shoo sed, +"If anxious for some gradely wit, + Just goa an boil thi heead." + + + +Try a Smile. + + +This world's full o' trubbles fowk say, but aw daat it, + Yo'll find as mich pleasure as pain; +Some grummel at times when they might do withaat it, + An oft withaat reason complain. +A fraan on a face nivver adds to its beauty, + Then let us forget for a while +Theas small disappointments, an mak it a duty, + To try the effect ov a smile. +Though the sun may be claaded he'll shine aght agean, + If we nobbut have patience an wait, +An its sewer to luk breeter for th' shadda ther's been; + Then let's banish all fooilish consait, +If we'd nivver noa sorrow joys on us wod pall, + Soa awr hearts let us all reconcile +To tak things as they come, makkin th' best on 'em all, + An cheer up a faint heart wi' a smile. + + + +Growin Old. + + +Old age, aw can feel's creepin on, + Aw've noa taste for what once made me glad; +Mi love ov wild marlocks is gooan, + An aw know awm noa longer a lad. +When aw luk back at th' mile stooans aw've pass'd, + As aw've thowtlessly stroll'd o'er life's track, +Awm foorced to acknowledge at last, + 'At its mooastly been all a mistak. + +Aw know aw can ne'er start agean, + An what's done aw can nivver undo, +All aw've gained has been simply to leearn + Ha mi hooaps, one bi one's fallen throo. +When a lad, wi' moor follies nor brains, + Aw thowt what awd do as a man; +An aw caanted mi profits an gains, + As a lad full ov hooap only can. + +An aw thowt when mi beard 'gan to grow, + Aw could leead all this world in a string, +Yet it tuk but a few years to show + 'At aw couldn't do onny sich thing. +But aw tewd an aw fowt neet an day, + An detarmined awd nivver give in, +Hooap still cheered me on wi' her ray, + An awd faith 'at i'th' long run awst win. + +A fortun aw felt wor for me, + An joy seem'd i'th' grasp o' mi list; +An aw laffd as aw clutched it wi' glee, + But someha or other it miss'd. +Still, aw pluckt up mi courage once moor, + An aw struggled wi' might an wi' main, +But awd noa better luck nor befooar, + An mi harvest wor sorrow an pain. + +An nah, when mi best days are passed, + An mi courage an strength are all spent; +Aw've to stand o' one side an at last, + Wi' mi failures an falls rest content, +In this world some pleasures to win, + Aw've been trubbled an tried an perplext, +An aw've thowtlessly rushed into sin, + An ne'er cared for a treasure i'th' next. + +As mi limbs get moor feeble an waik, + An aw know sooin mi race will be run; +Mi heart ommost feels fit to braik, + When aw think what aw've left all undone. +Nah, aw've nobbut th' fag end o' mi days + To prepare for a world withaat end; +Soa its time aw wor changin mi ways. + For ther's noa time like the present to mend + + + +Gooid Bye, Old Lad. + + +Ge me thi hand, mi trusty friend, + Mi own is all aw ha to gie thi; +Let friendship simmer on to th' end;-- + God bless thi! I an gooid luck be wi' thi! + +Aw prize thee just for what tha art;-- + Net for thi brass, thi clooas, or station; +But just becoss aw know thi heart, + Finds honest worth an habitation. + +Ther's monny a suit ov glossy black, + Worn bi a chap 'at's nowt to back it: +Wol monny a true, kind heart may rack, + Lapt in a tattered fushten jacket. + +Ther's monny a smilin simperin knave, + Wi' oppen hand will wish 'gooid morrow,' +'At wodn't gie a meg to save + A luckless mate, or ease his sorrow. + +Praichers an taichers seem to swarm, + But sad to tell,--th' plain honest fact is, +They'd rayther bid yo shun all harm, + Nor put ther taichin into practice. + +But thee,--aw read thee like a book,-- + Aw judge thi booath bi word an action; +An th' mooar aw know, an th' mooar aw look, + An th' mooar awm fill'd wi' satisfaction. + +Soa once agean, Gooid bye, old lad! + An till we meet agean, God bless thi! +May smilin fortun mak thi glad, + An may noa ills o' life distress thi. + + + +That Drabbled Brat. + + +Goa hooam,--tha little drabbled brat, + Tha'll get thi deeath o' cold; +Whear does ta live? Just tell me that, + Befooar aw start to scold. + +Thart sypin weet,--dooant come near me! + Tha luks hawf pined to deeath; +An what a cough tha has! dear me! + It ommost taks thi breeath. + +Them een's too big for thy wee face,-- + Thi curls are sad neglected; +Poor child! thine seems a woeful case, + Noa wonder tha'rt dejected. + +Nah, can't ta tell me who tha art? + Tha needn't think aw'll harm thi; +Here, tak this sixpence for a start, + An find some place to warm thi. + +Tha connot spaik;--thi een poor thing, + Are filled wi' tears already; +Tha connot even start to sing, + Thi voice is soa unsteady. + +It isn't long tha'll ha to rooam, + An sing thi simple ditty; +Tha doesn't seem to be at hooam, + I' this big bustlin city. + +It's hard to tell what's best to be + When seets are soa distressin; +For to sich helpless bairns as thee, + Deeath seems to be a blessin. + +Some hear thi voice an pass thi by, + An feel noa touch o' sorrow; +An, maybe, them at heave a sigh, + Laff it away to-morrow. + +For tha may sing, or sigh, or cry; + Nay,--tha may dee if needs be; +An th' busy craads 'at hurries by, + Streeams on an nivver heeds thee. + +But ther is One, hears ivvery grooan, + We needn't to remind Him; +An He'll net leeav thi all alooan; + God give thee grace to find Him! + +An may be send His angels daan, + Thi feet throo dangers guidin; +Until He sets thee in His craan,-- + A gem, in light abidin. + + + +Song for th' Hard Times, (1879.) + + +Nah chaps, pray dooant think it's a sarmon awm praichin, + If aw tell yo some nooations at's entered mi pate; +For ther's nubdy should turn a cold shoulder to taichin, + If th' moral be whoalsum an th' matter be reight. +We're goin throo a time o' bad trade an depression, + An scoors o' poor crayturs we meet ivvery day, +'At show bi ther faces they've had a hard lesson:-- + That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way. + +Aw couldn't but think as throo th' streets aw wor walkin, + An lukt i' shop winders whear fin'ry's displayed, +If they're able to sell it we're fooils to keep tawkin, + An liggin all th' blame on this slackness o' trade. +Tho times may be hard, yet ther's wealth, aye, an plenty, + An if fowk do ther duty aw'll venter to say, +Ther's noa reason a honest man's plate should be empty:-- + That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way. + +When it's freezin an snowin, an cold winds are blowin, + Aw see childer hawf covered wi two or three rags; +As they huddle together to shelter throo th' weather, + An think thersen lucky to find some dry flags; +Wol others i' carriages, gay wi fine paintin, + Lapt up i' warm furs, they goa dashin away; +Do they think o' them poor little childer at's faintin?-- + That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way. + +All honor to them who have proved thersen willin, + To help the unfortunate ones from their stooar; +An if freely bestowed, be it pence, pound, or shillin, + They shall nivver regret what they've given to th' poor. +An if we all do what we can for our naybor, + We shall sooin drive this bitter starvation away; +Till th' time when gooid wages reward honest labor:-- + That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way. + +But theas trubbles an trials may yet prove a blessin, + If when th' sun shines agean we all strive to mak hay; +An be careful to waste nowt o' drinkin an dressin, + But aght ov fair wages put summat away. +When adversity's claad agean hangs o'er the nation, + We can wait for th' return ov prosperity's ray; +An noa mooar find awr land i' this sad situation:-- + That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way. + +An ther's one matter mooar, at aw cannot but mention, + For it points aght a moral at shouldn't be missed; +Can't yo see ha they use ivvery aid an invention, + To grind daan yor wage when yo cannot resist. +If yo strike, they dooant care, for yor foorced to knock under, + Yor net able to live if they stop off yer pay; +Will it bring workin men to ther senses aw wonder?-- + That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way. + +Some are lukkin for help from this chap or tother, + An pinnin ther faith on pet parliament men; +But to feight ther own battles finds them lots o' bother, + An if help's what yo want yo mun luk to yorsen. +If we're blessed wi gooid health, an have brains, booans, an muscle, + An keep a brave heart, we shall yet win the fray; +An be wiser an stronger for havin this tussle:-- + That's a nooation held then, an it holds to this day. + + + +Stir thi Lass! + + +Come lassie be stirrin, for th' lark's up ith' lift, + An th' dew drops are hastin away; +An th' mist oth' hillside is beginnin to shift, + An th' flaars have all wakkened for th' day. +Tha promised to meet me beside this thorn tree, +An darlin, thi sweet face awm langing to see; +When tha arn't here ther's noa beauty for me; + Soa stir thi lass, stir thi, + Or else awst come for thi, +For tha knows what tha tell'd me last neet tha wod be. + +Come lassie be stirrin, awm here all alooan; + Tha'rt sewerly net slumb'rin still; +Th' lark's finished his tune an th' dewdrops have gooan, + An th' mist's rolled away ovver th' hill. +Net a wink have aw slept sin aw left thee last neet, +Lukkin forrad to th' time when tha sed we should meet; +But it's past, an mi sweetheart is still aght oth' seet; + But its cappin, lass, cappin, + 'At tha should be nappin, +When tha knows what tha promised at th' end o' awr street. + +Awm weary o' waitin, aw'll off to mi wark, + Awst be bated a quarter,--that's flat;-- +If tha's nobbut been fooilin me just for a lark, + Tha may find thi mistak when to lat. +Aw wanted to mak thi mi wife, for aw thowt, +Tha'd prove thisen just sich a mate as aw sowt; +But it seems tha'rt a false-hearted, young gooid-for-nowt! + But aw see thi, lass, see thi! + God bless thi! forgie me! +For tha'rt truer an fairer an dearer nor owt. + + + +Tother Day. + + +As awm sittin enjoyin mi pipe, + An tooastin mi shins beside th' hob, +Aw find ther's a harvest quite ripe, + O' thowts stoored away i' mi nob. +An aw see things as plainly to-neet, + 'At long years ago vanished away,-- +As if they'd but just left mi seet, + Tother day. + +Aw remember mi pranks when at schooil, + When mischievous tricks kept me soa thrang; +An mi maister declared me a fooil,-- + An maybe, he wor net soa far wrang. +Ha mi lessons awd skip throo, or miss, + To give me mooar chonces for play; +An aw fancy aw went throo all this, + Tother day. + +Aw remember mi coortin days too,-- + What a felly aw fancied misen; +An aw swore at mi sweetheart wor true,-- + For mi faith knew noa falterin then. +Aw remember ha jealous an mad, + Aw felt, when shoo turned me away, +An left a poor heartbrokken lad, + Tother day. + +Aw remember when hung o' mi arm, + To th' church went mi blushin' young bride; +Ha aw glooated o'er ivvery charm, + An swell'd like a frog i' mi pride. +An th' world seem'd a fooitball to me, + To kick when inclined for a play; +An life wor a jolly gooid spree,-- + Tother day. + +Aw remember mi day dreeams o' fame, + An aw reckoned what wealth aw should win +But alas! aw confess to mi shame,-- + Aw leeav offwhear aw thowt to begin, +Mi chief joy is to dreeam o' what's pass'd, + For mi future, one hope sheds its ray, +An awm driftin along varry fast, + To that day. + + + +Happy Sam's Song. + + +Varry monny years ago, when this world wor rather young, +A varry wicked sarpent, wi' a varry oily tongue, +Whispered summat varry nowty into Mistress Adam's ear; +An shoo pluckt a little apple 'at soa temptingly hung near. +Then shoo ait this dainty fruit shoo'd been tell'd shoo mudn't touch, +An shoo gave some to her husband, but it wornt varry much:-- +But sin that fatal day, he wor tell'd, soa it wor sed, +'At henceforth wi' a sweeaty broo, he'd have to earn his breead. +An all awr lords an princes, an ladies great an grand, +Have all sprung off that common stock a laborer i' the land; +Soa aw think ther airs an graces are little but a sham, +An aw wodn't change 'em places wi' hardworkin, Happy Sam. + + Awm contented wi' mi share, + Rough an ready tho' mi fare, + An aw strive to do mi duty to mi naybor; + If yo wonder who aw am, + Well,--mi name is Happy Sam; + Awm a member ov the multitude who labor. + +When aw've worked throo morn to neet for a varry little brass, +Yet a smilin welcome greets me from mi buxom, bonny lass; +An two tiny little toddles come to meet me at mi door, +An they think noa less ov daddy's kiss becoss that daddy's poor; +An as aw sit to smook mi pipe, mi treasures on mi knee; +Aw think ther's net a man alive 'at's hawf as rich as me; +Aw wodn't change mi station wi' a king upon his throne, +For ivvery joy araand me, honest labor's made mi own. +An we owe noa man a penny 'at we're net prepared to pay, +An we're tryin hard to save a bit agean a rainy day. +Soa aw cry a fig for care! Awm contented as aw am,-- +An bless the fate 'at made me plain, hardworkin, Happy Sam. + + Awm contented wi' mi share, + Rough an ready tho' mi fare, + An aw strive to do mi duty to mi naybor; + If yo wonder who aw am, + Well, mi name is Happy Sam, + Awm a member ov the multitude who labor. + + + +Gradely Weel off. + + +Draw thi cheer nigher th' foir, put th' knittin away, + Put thi tooas up o'th' fender to warm: +We've booath wrought enuff, aw should think, for a day, + An a rest willn't do us mich harm. +Awr lot's been a rough en, an tho' we've grown old, + We shall have to toil on to its end; +An altho' we can booast nawther silver nor gold, + Yet we ne'er stood i'th' want ov a Friend. + + Soa cheer up, old lass, + Altho' we've grown grey, + An we havn't mich brass, + Still awr hearts can be gay: + For we've health an contentment an soa we can say, + 'At we're gradely weel off after all. + +As aw coom ovver th' moor, a fine carriage went by, + An th' young squire wor sittin inside; +An wol makkin mi manners aw smothered a sigh, + As for th' furst time aw saw his young bride. +Shoo wor white as a sheet, an soa sickly an sad, + Wol aw could'nt but pity his lot; +Thinks aw, old an grey, yet awm richer to-day, + For aw've health an content i' mi cot. + Soa cheer up, old lass, &c. + +Gie me th' pipe off o'th' hob, an aw'll tak an odd whiff, + For aw raillee feel thankful to-neet; +An altho' mi booans wark, an mi joints are all stiff, + Yet awm able to keep mi heart leet. +If we've had a fair share ov th' world's trubble an care, + We mun nivver forget i' times past, +Ther wor allus one Friend, His help ready to lend, + An He'll nivver forsake us at last. + Soa cheer up, old lass, &c. + +Tho' we've noa pew at th' church, an we sit whear we can, + An th' sarmon we dooant understand; +An th' sarvice is all ov a new fangled plan, + An th' mewsic's suppooased to be grand,-- +We can lift up awr hearts when we come hooam at neet, + As we sing th' old psalms ovver agean; +An tho' old crackt voices dooant saand varry sweet, + He knows varry weel what we mean. + + Soa cheer up, old lass, + Altho' we've grown grey, + An we havn't mich brass, + Still awr hearts can be gay; + For we've health an contentment, an soa we can say, + 'At we're gradely weel off after all. + + + +Is it Reight? + + +Awm noa radical, liberal nor toory, + Awm a plain spokken, hard-workin man; +Aw cooart nawther fame, wealth nor glory, + But try to do th' best 'at aw can. +But when them who hold lofty positions, + Are unmindful of all but thersen,-- +An aw know under what hard conditions, + Thaasands struggle to prove thersen men, +It sets me a thinkin an thinkin, + Ther's summat 'at wants setting reight; +An wol th' wealthy all seem to be winkin, + Leeavin poor fowk to wonder an wait,-- +Is it cappin to find one's hooap sickens? + Or at workers should join in a strike? +When they see at distress daily thickens, + Till despairin turns into dislike? +Is it strange they should feel discontented, + An repine at ther comfortless lot, +When they see lux'ry rife in the mansion, + An starvation at th' door ov the cot? +Is it reight 'at theas hard-handed workers + Should wear aght ther life day bi day, +An find 'at th' reward for ther labors + Is ten per cent knockt off ther pay? +But we're tell'd 'at we owt to be thankful + If we've plenty to ait an to drink; +An its sinful to question one's betters,-- + We wor sent here to work, net to think. +Then lets try to appear quite contented, + For this maathful o' summat to ait; +Its for what us poor fowk wor invented,-- + But awm blowed if aw think at its reight. + + + +A Yorksher Bite. + + +Bless all them bonny lasses, + I' Yorksher born an bred! +Ther beauty nooan surpasses, + Complete i'th' heart an th' heead. +An th' lads,--tho aw've seen monny lands, + Ther equal aw ne'er met; +For honest hearts an willin hands, + They nivver can be bet. +Aw nivver hold mi heead soa heigh, + Or feel sich true delight, +As when fowk point me aght an say, + "Thear gooas a Yorksher Bite." + + + +Lily's Gooan. + + +"Well, Robert! what's th' matter! nah mun, +Aw see 'at ther's summat nooan sweet; +Thi een luk as red as a sun-- +Aw saw that across th' width of a street; +Aw hope 'at yor Lily's noa war-- +Surelee--th' little thing is'nt deead? +Tha wod roor, aw think, if tha dar-- +What means ta bi shakin thi heead? +Well, aw see bi thi sorrowful e'e +At shoo's gooan, an' aw'm soory, but yet, +When youngens like her hap ta dee, +They miss troubles as some live to hit. +Tha mun try an' put up wi' thi loss, +Tha's been praad o' that child, aw mun say, +But give over freatin, becoss +It's for th' best if shoo's been taen away." +"A'a! Daniel, it's easy for thee +To talk soa, becoss th' loss is'nt thine; +But its ommost deeath-blow to me, +Shoo wor prized moor nor owt else 'at's mine; +An' when aw bethink me shoo's gooan, +Mi feelins noa mortal can tell; +Mi heart sinks wi' th' weight ov a stooan, +An' aw'm capped 'at aw'm livin mysel. +Aw shall think on it wor aw to live +To be th' age o' Methusla or moor; +Tho' shoo said 'at aw had'nt to grieve, +We should booath meet agean, shoo wor sure: +An' when shoo'd been dreamin one day, +Shoo said shoo could hear th' angels call; +But shoo could'nt for th' life goa away +Till they call'd for her daddy an' all. +An' as sooin as aw coom thro' my wark, +Shoo'd ha' me to sit bi her bed; +An' thear aw've watched haars i'th' dark, +An' listened to all 'at shoo's said; +Shoo's repeated all th' pieces shoo's learnt, +When shoo's been ov a Sundy to th' schooil, +An ax'd me what dift'rent things meant, +Woll aw felt aw wor nobbut a fooill +An' when aw've been gloomy an' sad, +Shoo's smiled an' taen hold o' mi hand, +An whispered, 'yo munnot freat, dad; +Aw'm gooin to a happier land; +An' aw'll tell Jesus when aw get thear, +'At aw've left yo here waitin his call; +An' He'll find yo a place, niver fear, +For ther's room up i' heaven for all.' +An' this mornin, when watchin th' sun rise, +Shoo said, 'daddy, come nearer to me, +Thers a mist comin ovver mi eyes, +An' aw find at aw hardly can see.-- +Gooid bye!--kiss yor Lily agean,-- +Let me pillow mi heead o' yor breast! +Aw feel now aw'm freed thro' mi pain; +Then Lily shoo went to her rest." + + + +What aw Want. + + +Gie me a little humble cot, + A bit o' garden graand, +Set in some quiet an' sheltered spot, + Wi' hills an' trees all raand; + +An' if besides mi hooam ther flows + A little mumuring rill, +At sings sweet music as it gooas, + Awst like it better still. + +Gie me a wife 'at loves me weel, + An' childer two or three, +Wi' health to sweeten ivery meal, + An' hearts brimful o' glee. + +Gie me a chonce, wi' honest toil + Mi efforts to engage, +Gie me a maister who can smile + When forkin aght mi wage. + +Gie me a friend 'at aw can trust, + 'An tell mi secrets to; +One tender-hearted, firm an' just, + Who sticks to what is true. + +Gie me a pipe to smook at neet, + A pint o' hooam-brew'd ale, +A faithful dog 'at runs to meet + Me wi a waggin tail. + +A cat to purr o'th' fender rims, + To freeten th' mice away; +A cosy bed to rest mi limbs + Throo neet to commin day. + +Gie me all this, an' aw shall be + Content, withaat a daat, +But if denied, then let me be + Content to live withaat. + +For 'tisn't th' wealth one may possess + Can purchase pleasures true; +For he's th' best chonce o' happiness, + Whose wants are small an' few. + + + +Latter Wit. + + +Awm sittin o' that old stooan seeat, + Wheear last aw set wi' thee; +It seems long years sin' last we met, + Awm sure it must be three. + +Awm wond'rin what aw sed or did, + Or what aw left undone: +'At made thi hook it, an' get wed, + To one tha used to shun. + +Aw dooant say awm a handsom chap, + Becoss aw know awm net; +But if aw wor 'ith' mind to change, + He isn't th' chap, aw'll bet. + +Awm net a scoller, but aw know + A long chawk moor ner him; +It couldn't be his knowledge box + 'At made thi change thi whim. + +He doesn't haddle as mich brass + As aw do ivery wick: +An' if he gets a gradely shop, + It's seldom he can stick. + +An' then agean,--he goes on th' rant; + Nah, that aw niver do;-- +Aw allus mark misen content, + Wi' an odd pint or two. + +His brother is a lazy lout,-- + His sister's nooan too gooid,-- +Ther's net a daycent 'en ith' bunch,-- + Vice seems to run ith' blooid. + +An yet th'art happy,--soa they say, + That caps me moor ner owt! +Tha taks a deal less suitin, lass, + Nor iver awst ha' thowt. + +Aw saw yo walkin aat one neet, + Befoor yo'd getten wed; +Aw guess'd what he wor tawkin, tho + Aw dooant know what he sed. + +But he'd his arm araand thi waist, + An tho' thi face wor hid, +Aw'll swear aw saw him kuss thi:-- + That's what aw niver did. + +Aw thowt tha'd order him away, + An' mak a fearful row, +But tha niver tuk noa nooatice, + Just as if tha didn't know. + +Awm hawf inclined to think sometimes, + Aw've been a trifle soft, +Aw happen should a' dun't misen? + Aw've lang'd to do it oft. + +Thar't lost to me, but if a chonce + Should turn up by-an-by, +If aw get seck'd aw'll bet me booits, + That isn't t'reason why. + + + +A Millionaire. + + +Aw wodn't gie a penny piece + To be a millionaire, +For him 'at's little cattle, is + The chap wi' little care. +Jewels may flash o'er achin broos, + An silken robes may hide +Bosoms all fair to look upon, + Whear braikin hearts abide. + +Gie me enuff for daily needs, + An just a bit to spend; +Enuff to pay mi honest way, + An help a strugglin friend. +Aw'll be contented it aw keep + The wolf from off mi door; +Aw'll envy nubdy o' ther brass, + An nivver dream awm poor. + +Dewdrops 'at shine i'th' early morn + Are diamons for me. +An jewels glint i' ivvery tint, + On th' hill or daan i'th' lea. +My sweet musicianers are burds + At tune their joyous lay, +Araand mi cottage winder, + An nivver strike for pay. + +Aw lang for noa fine carriages + To drag me raand about! +Shanks galloway my purpose fits + Far better, beyond daat. +An when at times aw weary grow, + An fain wod have a rest; +Aw toddle hooam an goa to bed,-- + That allus answers best. + +"Insomnia;" ne'er bothers me,-- + It's tother way abaght; +Aw sleep throo tummelin into bed, + Wol th' time to tummel aght. +Aw nivver want a "pick-me-up," + To tempt mi appetite; +Aw ait what's set anent me, + An aw relish ivvery bite. + +What pleasure has a millionaire + 'At aw've net one to match? +Awd show 'em awm best off o'th' two, + If they'd come up to th' scratch. +Ov one thing aw feel sartin sewer, + They've mooar nor me to bear; +Yo bet! its net all "Lavender," + To be a millionaire. + + + +Mi Fayther's Pipe. + + +AW'VE a treasure yo'd laff if yo saw, + But its mem'ries are dear to mi heart; +For aw've oft seen it stuck in a jaw, + Whear it seem'd to form ommost a part. +Its net worth a hawpny, aw know, + But its given mooar pleasure maybe, +Nor some things at mak far mooar show, + An yo can't guess its vally to me. + +Mi fayther wor fond ov his pipe, + An this wor his favorite clay; +An if mi ideas wor ripe, + Awd enshrine it ith' folds ov a lay; +But words allus fail to express + What aw think when aw see its old face; +For aw know th' world holds one friend the less, + An mi hearth has one mooar vacant place. + +Ov trubbles his life had its share, + But he kept all his griefs to hissen; +Tho aw've oft seen his brow knit wi care, + Wol he tried to crack jooaks nah an then. +But one comfort he'd ivver i' stooar, + An he'd creep to his favorite nook, +An seizin his old pipe once mooar, + All his trubbles would vanish i' smook. + +If his fare should be roughish or scant, + He nivver repined at his lot; +He seem'd to have all he could want, + If he knew he'd some bacca ith' pot. +An he'd fill up this little black clay, + An as th' reek curled away o'er his heead, +Ivvery trace ov his sorrow gave way, + An a smile used to dwell thear asteead. + +He grew waiker as years rolled along, + An his e'eseet an hearin gave way; +An his limbs at had once been soa strong, + Grew shakier day after day. +Yet his heart nivver seem'd to grow old, + Tho life's harvest had long been past ripe +For his ailments wor allus consoled, + When he'd getten a whiff ov his pipe, + +Aw'll keep it as long as aw can, + For its all aw've been able to save, +To bind mi heart still to th' old man, + At's moulderin away in his grave. +He'd noa strikin virtues to booast, + Noa vices for th' world to condemn; +To be upright an honest an just, + In his lifetime he ne'er forgate them, + +As a fayther, kind, patient and true, + His mem'ry will allus be dear; +For he acted soa far as he knew, + For th' best to all th' fowk he coom near. +An aw ne'er see this blackened old clay, + But aw find mi een dimmed wi a tear; +An aw ne'er put th' old relic away + But aw wish mi old fayther wor here. + + + +Let th' Lasses Alooan! + + +What a lot ov advice ther is wasted;-- + What praichin is all thrown away;-- +Young fowk lang for pleasures untasted, + An its little they'll heed what yo say. +Old fowk may have wisdom i' plenty, + But they're apt to forget just one thing; +What suits sixty will hardly fit twenty, + An youth ivver will have its fling. + + __________ + + +Old Jenny sat silently freeatin,-- + Sed Alec, "Pray lass, what's to do?" +But his old wife went on wi her knittin, + As if shoo'd a task to get throo. +Then shoo tuk off her specs, and sed sadly, + "Awm capt ha blind some fowk can be; +Ther's reason for me lukkin badly, + But nowt maks a difference to thee." + +Ther's awr Reuben, he's hardly turned twenty, + An awr Jim isn't nineteen wol May;-- +Aw provide for em gooid things i plenty, + An ne'er a wrang word to em say; +But they've noa sooiner swoller'd ther drinkin, + Nor they're don'd, an away off they've gooan, +An awm feared,--for aw connot help thinkin, + At they dunnot let th' lasses alooan. + +Ther's that forrad young hussy, Sal Sankey, + Awm thankful shoo's noa child o' mine:-- +When awr Reuben's abaat shoo's fair cranky;-- + An shoo's don'd like some grand lady fine. +An Reuben's soa soft he can't see it, + An aw mud as weel praich to a stooan, +He does nowt but grin when aw tell him, + To mind, an let th' lasses alooan. + +Awr Jim follers Reuben's example, + He hasn't a morsel o' wit! +An yond lass o' Braans,--shoo's a sample + Ov a gigglin, young impitent chit. +An he'd cheek to tell me shoo wor bonny,-- + One like her!!--Why, shoo's just skin an booan +Awd have better nor her if awd onny, + But he'd better let th' lasses alooan. + +"All th' four went to th' meetin last Sundy,-- + Aw dursn't think what they'll do next; +An ther worrit one on em at Mundy + Could tell what th' chap tuk for his text. +Tha may laff, like a child at a bubble, + But thi laff may yet end in a grooan; +For they're sartin to get into trubble, + If they dunnot lei th' lasses alooan." + +"Aw connot help laffin, old beauty! + Tho' aw know at tha meeans to do reight; +Tha's nivver neglected thi duty, + An tha's kept thi lads honest an straight. +Just think ha ther father behaved when + He met thee i'th' days at are gooan; +Tha knows ha aw beg'd, an aw slaved, then + To win th' lass at aw ne'er let alooan." + +"Aw've nivver regretted that mornin, + When aw made thi mi bonny young bride, +An although we're nah past life's turnin, + We still jog along, side bi side. +We've shared i' booath pleasures an bothers, + An ther's noa reason why we should mooan; +An its folly to try to stop others, + For lads willn't let th' lasses alooan," + + + +A Breet Prospect. + + +As aw passed Wit'orth chapel 'twor just five o'clock, +Aw'd mi can full o' teah, an a bundle o' jock; +An aw thowt th' bit o' bacca aw puffed on mi way +Wor sweeter nor ivver aw'd known it that day. + An th' burds sang soa sweetly, + An th' sun shone soa breetly, +An th' trees lukt soa green;--it wor th' furst day i' May. + +Aw wor lazy that mornin, an could'nt help thinkin, +As aw'd getten booath braikfast, an dinner, an drinkin, +An bacca, an matches,--'at just a odd day +For a stroll, could'nt braik monny squares onnyway, + But it tuk me noa little, + To screw up mi mettle, +For if th' wife gate to know aw'd a guess what shoo'd say. + +Soa aw thowt aw'll let wark goa to pot for a bit, +Its net once i'th' year 'at aw get sich a treeat; +But aw'll have a day aght just bi th' way ov a change, +For aw've moped i' yond miln wol aw raylee feel strange: + For mi heead's full o'th' whirlin, + O'th' twistin an twirlin;-- +Mun aw'm feeard aw'st goa crackt if aw've nivver a change. + +Then aw thowt o' mi wife an mi childer at hooam, +An says aw, aw shall loise a day's wage if aw rooam; +Green fields an wild flaars wor ne'er meant for me, +Aw mun tew ivvery day wol mi time comes to dee; + An then fowk 'll mutter, + As aw'm tossed into th' gutter, +"It's nobbut a wayver;--oh, fiddle-de-dee!" + + + +Missin Yor Way. + + +It wor dark an mi way wor across a wild mooar, + An noa signs could aw find ov a track, +'Twor a place whear aw nivver had rambled befooar; + An aw eearnestly wished misen back. +As aw went on an on mooar uneven it grew, + An farther mi feet seem'd to stray, +When a chap made me start, as he shaated "Halloa! + Maister, yor missin yor way!" + +Wi' his help aw contrived to land safely back hooam, + An aw thowt as o'th' hearthstun aw set, +What a blessin 'twod be if when other fowk rooam, + They should meet sich a friend as aw'd met. +An aw sat daan to write just theas words ov advice, + Soa read 'em young Yorksher fowk, pray; +An aw'st think for mi trubble aw'm paid a rare price, + If aw've saved one throo missin ther way. + +Yo lads 'at's but latly begun to wear hats, + An fancy yor varry big men; +Yo may fancy yor sharps when yor nowt nobbut flats,-- + Be advised an tak care o' yorsen. +Shun that gin palace door as yo'd shun a wild beast, + Nivver heed what yor comrades may say, +Tho' they call yo a fooil, an they mak yo ther jest, + Stand stedfast,--they're missin ther way. + +Shun them lasses, (God help 'em!) 'at wander throo th' streets, + An cut sich a dash an a swell,-- +Who simper an smirk at each chap 'at they meet, + Flingin baits to drag victims to Hell. +They may laff, they may shaat, they may join in a dance, + They may spooart ther fine clooas an seem gay; +But ther's sorrow within,--yo may see at a glance,-- + Poor crayturs! they're missin ther way. + +Luk at yond,--but a child,--what's shoo dooin thear? + Shoo sewerly is innocent yet? +Her face isn't brazen,--an see, ther's a tear + In her ee an her checks are booath wet, +They are tears ov despair, for altho' shoo's soa young, + Shoo has sunk deep i' sin to obtain +Fine feathers an trinkets, an nah her heart's wrung + Wi' remorse, an shoo weeps wi' her pain. + +But shoo's gooin away,--let us follo an see + Whear her journey soa hurried can tend; +Some danger it may be shoo's tryin to flee, + Or maybe shoo's i' search ov a friend. +Her hooam, once soa happy, shoo durs'nt goa thear, + For shoo's fill'd it wi' sorrow an grief; +An shoo turns her een upward, as if wi' a fear, + Even Heaven can give noa relief. + +Nah shoo's takken a turn, an we've lost her,--but Hark! + What's that cry? It's a cry o' distress! +An o'th' bridge we discover when gropin i'th' dark, + A crushed bonnet, a mantle an dress. +An thear shines the river, soa quiet an still, + O'er its bed soa uncertain an deep; +Can it be? sich a thowt maks one's blooid to run chill,-- + Has that lass gooan for ivver to sleep? + +Alas! soa it is. For shoo's takken a bound, + An rashly Life's river shoo's crost; +An th' wind seems to whisper wi' sorrowful sound, + "Lost,--lost,--another one lost!" +O, lads, an O, lasses! tak warnin i' time, + Shun theas traps set bi Satan, whose bait +May seem temptin; beware! they're but first steps to crime, + Act to-day,--lest to-morrow's too late. + + + +Heather Bells. + + +Ye little flowrets, wild an free, + Yo're welcome, aye as onny! +Ther's but few seets 'at meet mi ee + 'At ivver seem as bonny. +Th' furst gift 'at Lizzie gave to me, + Wor a bunch o' bloomin heather, +Shoo pluckt it off o'th' edge o'th' lea, + Whear we'd been set together. + +An when shoo put it i' mi hand, + A silent tear wor wellin +Within her ee;--it fell to th' graand, + A doleful stooary tellin. +"It is a little gift," shoo sed, + "An sooin will fade an wither, +Yet, still, befooar its bloom is shed, + We two mun pairt for ivver." + +I tried to cheer her trubbled mind, + Wi' tender words endearin; +An raand her neck mi arms entwined, + But grief her breast wor tearin. +"Why should mi parents sell for gold, + Ther dowter's life-long pleasure? +Noa charm 'at riches can unfold, + Can match a true love's treasure." + +"But still, aw mun obey ther will,-- + It isn't reight to thwart it; +But mi heart's love clings to thee still, + An nowt but deeath can part it, +Forgie me if aw cause a pang,-- + Aw'll love thee as a brother,-- +Mi heart is thine, an oh! its wrang, + Mi hand to give another." + +"Think on me when theas fields grow bare, + An cold winds kill the flowers, +Ov bitterness they have a share; + Their lot is like to awrs. +An if aw'm doomed to pine away, + Wi' pleasure's cup untasted, +Just drop a tear aboon the clay, + 'At hides a young life wasted." + +"Why should awr lot soa bitter be, + Theas burds 'at sing together, +When storms are commin off they flee, + To lands ov sunny wreather? +An nah, when trubbles threaten thee + What should prevent thee gooin, +An linkin on thi fate wi' me, + Withaat thi parents knowin?" + +"Tha knows my love is soa sincere, + Noa risk can mak it falter, +Soa put aside all daat an fear, + An goa wi' me to th' altar +I' one month's time my wife tha'll be,-- + Or less if tha'll but shorten it." +"Well then," says Lizzy, "aw'll agree, + Tha'st have me in a fortnit." + +Shoo laft an cried,--aw laft as weel, + Aw feear'd shoo did'nt meean it; +But Lizzie proved as true as steel,-- + Her fowk sed nowt ageean it. +An who that wealthy chap could be, + Aw nivver shall detarmin, +For if aw ax shoo glints wi' glee. + An says, "Thee mind thi farmin." + +An soa aw till mi bit o' graand, + An oft when aght together, +I'th' cooil o'th' day we saunter raand + An pluck a sprig o' heather. +Soa sweethearts nooat theas simple facts, + An trust i' one another; +A lass i' love ne'er stops to ax, + Her fayther or her mother. + + + +A Lucky Dog. + + +Tha'rt a rough en;--aye tha art,--an aw'll bet +Just as ready. Tha ne'er lived as a pet, + Aw can tell. +Ther's noa mistress weshed thi skin, cooam'd thi heead; +Net mich pettin; kicks an cuffins oft asteead, + Like mysel. + +Tha'rt noa beauty;--nivver wor;--nivver will; +Ther's lots like thee amang men,--but then still, + Sich is fate; +An its fooilish for to be discontent +At a thing we've noa paar to prevent. + That's true mate. + +Why tha's foller'd one like me aw cant tell; +If tha'rt seekin better luck,--its a sell, + As tha'll find; +Nay, tha needn't twitch thi tail aght o' seet, +Aw'll nooan hurt thi, tho' aw own tha'rt a freet. + Nivver mind. + +Here's mi supper, an aw'll spare thee a part,-- +Gently, pincher! Tak thi time. Here tha art; + That's thy share. +Are ta chooakin? Sarve thi reight! Tak thi time! +Why it's wasted, owt 'at's gien thee 'at's prime. + Aw declare. + +Are ta lukkin for some mooar? Tha's a cheek +Tha mud nivver had a taste for a week, + Tha'rt soa small; +Aw've net tasted sin this nooin,--soa tha knows! +Thi maath watters,--awm a fooil,--but here gooas, + Tak it all. + +Tha luks hungry even yet,-aw believe +Tha'd caar thear as long as awd owt to give, + But it's done. +Are ta lost? Aw'll tell thi what tha'd best do +Draand thisen! or let's toss up which o'th' two, + Just for fun. + +Come, heead or tail? If its heead then its thee, +But net furst time,--we'll have two aght o' three,-- + One to me. +Nah, it's tail,--one an one,---fairly tost,-- +If its tail a second time, then aw've lost; + Two to thee. + +Soa it's sattled, an tha's won;--aw've to dee, +But aw think it weant meean mich to thee + If aw dull; +For if awm poor, life is still sweet to all, +Deeath's walkin raand, he's pratty sewer to call, + Sooin enuff. + +Aw'll toss noa moor, awm aght o' luck to neet, +Aw'll goa to bed, an tha can sleep baght leet + Aw expect. +If tha'd ha lost, as sewer as here's a clog, +Tha'd had to draand, but thart a lucky dog, + Recollect. + + + +My Doctrine. + + +Aw wodn't care to live at all, + Unless aw could be jolly! +Let sanctimonious skinflints call + All recreation folly. + +Aw still believe this world wor made + For fowk to have some fun in; +An net for everlastin trade, + An avarice an cunnin. + +Aw dooant believe a chap should be + At th' grinnel stooan for ivver; +Ther's sewerly sometime for a spree, + An better lat nor nivver. + +It's weel enuff for fowk to praich + An praise up self denial; +But them 'at's forradest to praich, + Dooant put it oft to trial. + +They'd rayther show a thaasand fowk + A way, an point 'em to it; +Nor act as guides an stop ther tawk, + An try thersens to do it. + +Aw think this world wor made for me, + Net me for th' world's enjoyment; +An to mak th' best ov all aw see + Will find me full employment. + +"My race," they say, "is nearly run, + It mightn't last a minnit;" +But if ther's pleasure to be fun, + Yo bet yor booits awm in it. + +Aw wodn't care to live at all, + Weighed daan wi' melancholy; +My doctrine is, goa in for all, + 'At helps to mak life jolly. + + + +That Lass. + + +Awm nobbut a poor workin man, + An mi wage leeavs me little to spare; +But aw strive to do th' best 'at aw can, + An tho' poor, yet aw nivver despair. +'At aw live bi hard wark is mi booast, + Tho' mi clooas may be shabby an meean; +But th' one thing awm langin for mooast, + Is that grand Yorksher lass 'at aw've seen. + +They may call me a fooil or a ass, + To tawk abaat wantin a wife; +But there's nowt like a true hearted lass, + To sweeten a workinman's life. +An love is a feelin as pure + In a peasant as 'tis in a queen, +An happy aw could be awm sewer, + Wi' that grand Yorksher lass 'at aw've seen. + +Aw dreeam ov her ivvery neet, + An aw think o' nowt else durin th' day; +An aw lissen for th' saand ov her feet, + But its melted i'th' distance away. +At mi lot aw cant help but repine, + When aw think ov her bonny black een, +For awm feeard shoo can nivver be mine; + That grand Yorksher lass 'at aw've seen. + + + +Mi Old Umberel + + +What matters if some fowk deride, + An point wi' a finger o' scorn? +Th' time wor tha wor lukt on wi' pride, + Befooar mooast o'th' scoffers wor born. +But aw'll ne'er turn mi back on a friend, + Tho' old-fashioned an grey like thisen; +But aw'll try to cling to thi to th' end, + Tho' thart nobbut an old umberel. + +Whear wod th' young ens 'at laff be to-day, + But for th' old ens they turn into fun? +Who wor wearm thersen bent an grey, + When their days had hardly begun. +Ther own youth will quickly glide past; + If they live they'll ail grow old thersel; +An they'll long for a true friend at last, + Tho' its nobbut an old umberel. + +Tha's grown budgey, an faded, an worn, + Yet thi inside is honest an strong; +But thi coverin's tattered an torn, + An awm feeard 'at tha cannot last long. +But when th' few years 'at's left us have run, + An to th' world we have whispered farewells; +May they say at my duty wor done, + As weel as mi old umberel's + + + +What it Comes to. + + +Young Alick gate wed, as all gradely chaps do, + An tuk Sally for better or war; +A daycenter felly ne'er foller'd a ploo,-- + Th' best lad ov his mother's bi far. + +An shoo wor as nice a young lass as yo'll see + In a day's march, aw'll wager mi hat; +But yo know unless fowk's dispositions agree, + Tho' they're bonny,--noa matter for that. + +They'd better bi hawf have a hump o' ther rig, + Or be favvor'd as ill as old Flew; +If ther temper is sweet, chaps 'll net care a fig, + Tho' his wife may have one ee or two. + +Young Sally had nivver been used to a farm, + An shoo seem'd to know nowt abaat wark; +Shoo set wi' her tooas up o'th' fender to warm, + Readin novels throo mornin to dark. + +Alick saw 'at sich like gooins on wod'nt do, + Soa one neet when they'd getten to bed, +He tell'd her he thowt shoo'd best buckle too, + Or else we'st be ruined, he sed. + +Says Sally, "its cappin to hear thi awm sewer, + For tha tell'd me befooar we wor wed, +Tha'd be happy wi me, an tha wanted nowt mooar + If aw nivver stirred aght o' mi bed." + +"Tha sed aw wor bonny, an th' leets o' mi een + Wor enuff for thi sunshine throo life; +An tha tell'd me tha wanted to mak me a queen,-- + But it seems 'at tha wanted a wife." + +"Aw'm willin to own love's all reight in its way, + An aw'm glad aw've discovered soa sooin +'At love withaat labor sooin dwindles away,-- + For fowk can't live o' billin an cooin." + +"That's my nooation too,--but aw thowt tha should try, + What a wife as a laikon could be; +Noa daat tha's fan livin o' love rayther dry, + For aw'll own aw'd grown sickened o' thee." + + + +Hold up yer Heeads. + + +Hold up yer heeads, tho' at poor workin men + Simple rich ens may laff an may scorn; +Maybe they ne'er haddled ther riches thersen, + Somdy else lived befooar they wor born. +As noble a heart may be fun in a man, + Who's a poor ragged suit for his best, +(An who knows he mun work or else he mun clam,) + As yo'll find i' one mich better drest. +Soa here's to all th' workers whearivver they be, + I'th' land or i'th' loom or i'th' saddle; +An the dule tak all them who wod mak us less free, + Or rob us o'th' wages we haddle! + + + +A Quiet Day. + + +A'a! its grand to have th' place to yorsen! + To get th' wimmen fowk all aght o'th' way! +Mine's all off for a trip up to th' Glen, + An aw've th' haase to misen for a day. + +If aw'd mi life to spend ovver ageean, + Aw'd be bothered wi' nooan o' that mak; +What they're gooid for aw nivver could leearn, + Except to spooart clooas o' ther back. + +Nah, aw'll have a quiet pipe, just for once, + Aw'm soa thankful to think 'at they're shut; +An its seldom a chap has a chonce;-- + Whear the dickens has th' matches been put? + +Well, nah then, aw've th' foir to leet,-- + It will'nt tak long will'nt that, +An as sooin as its gotten burned breet, + Aw'il fry some puttates up i' fat. + +Aw know aw'm a stunner to cook,-- + Guys-hang-it! this kinlin's damp! +It does nowt but splutter an smook, + An this Hue's ov a varry poor stamp. + +It's lukkin confaandedly black,-- + Its as dismal an dull as mi hat; +Nah, Sal leets a foir in a crack,-- + Aw will give her credit for that. + +Ther's nowt nicer nor taties when fried,-- + Aw could ait em to ivvery meal; +Aw can't get 'em, altho' aw've oft tried,-- + Its some trouble aw know varry weel. + +Th' foirs aght! an it stops aght for me! + Aw'il bother noa mooar wi' th' old freet! +Next time they set off for a spree, + They'st net leeav me th' foir to leet. + +Aw dooant care mich for coffee an teah, + Aw can do wi' some milk an a cake; +An fried taties they ne'er seem to me, + Worth th' bother an stink 'at they make. + +Whear's th' milk? Oh, its thear, an aw'm blest, + That cat has its heead reight i'th' pot; +S'cat! witta! A'a, hang it aw've missed! + If aw hav'nt aw owt to be shot! + +An th' pooaker's flown cleean throo a pane; + It wor fooilish to throw it, that's true; +Them 'at keep sich like cats are insane, + For aw ne'er see noa gooid 'at they do. + +Aw think aw'il walk aght for a while, + But, bless us! mi shooin isn't blackt! +Aw'm net used to be sarved i' this style, + An aw think at ther's somdy gooan crackt. + +It doesn't show varry mich thowt, + When aw'm left wi' all th' haasewark to do, +For fowk to set off an do nowt, + Net soa mich as to blacken a shoe. + +It'll be dinner time nah varry sooin,-- + An ther's beefsteaks i'th' cubbord aw know; +But aw can't leet that foir bi nooin, + An aw can't ait beefsteak when its raw. + +Aw tell'd Sal this morn 'at shoo'd find, + A rare appetite up i' that Glen; +An aw think if aw dooant change mi mind, + Aw shall manage to find one misen. + +Aw wor fooilish to send 'em away, + But they'll ha to do th' best at they can; +But aw'st feel reight uneasy all th' day,-- + Wimmen's net fit to goa baght a man. + +They've noa nooation what prices to pay, + An they dooant know th' best places to call; +Aw'il be bun it'll cost 'em to-day, + What wod pay my expences an all. + +It luks better, aw fancy, beside, + When a chap taks his family raand; +Nah, suppooas they should goa for a ride, + An be pitched ovver th' brig an be draand. + +Aw ne'er should feel happy ageean, + If owt happen'd when aw wor away; +An to leeav 'em i' danger luks meean, + Just for th' sake o' mi own quiet day. + +Aw could catch th' train at leeavs abaat nooin; + E'e, gow! that'll be a gooid trick! +An aw'st get a gooid dinner for gooin, + An th' foir can goa to old Nick. + +Its a pity to miss mi quiet day, + But its better to do that 'at's reight; +An it matters nowt what fowk may say, + But a chap mun ha summat to ait, + + + +Lass o'th Haley Hill. + + +O winds 'at blow, an flaars 'at grow, + O sun, an stars an mooin! +Aw've loved yo long, as weel yo know, + An watched yo neet an nooin. +But nah, yor paars to charm all flee, + Altho' yor bonny still, +But th' only beauty i' mi e'e, + Is th' lass o'th Haley Hill. + +Her een's my stars,--her smile's my sun, + Her cheeks are rooases bonny; +Her teeth like pearls all even run, + Her brow's as fair as onny. +Her swan-like neck,--her snowy breast,-- + Her hands, soa seldom still; +Awm fain to own aw love her best,-- + Sweet lass o'th' Haley Hill. + +Aw axt her i' mi kindest tone, + To grant mi heart's desire; +A tear upon her eyelid shone,-- + It set mi heart o' foir. +Wi' whispers low aw told mi love, + Shoo'd raised her droopin heead; +Says shoo, "Awm sooary for thi lad, + But awm already wed; +An if awr Isaac finds thee here,-- + As like enuff he will,-- +Tha'll wish 'at tha wor onnywhear, + Away throo th' Haley Hill. + + + +Ditherum Dump. + + +Ditherum dump lived i'th' haase behund th' pump, + An he grummel'd throo mornin to neet, +On his rig he'd a varry respectable hump, + An his nooas end wor ruddy an breet. +His een wor askew an his legs knock-a-kneed, + An his clooas he could don at a jump; +An th' queerest old covey 'at ivver yo seed, + Wor mi naybor old Ditherum Dump. + + Ditherum Dump he lived behund th' pump, + An he grummel'd throo mornin to neet; + An he sed fowk neglect one they owt to respect, + An blow me, if aw think 'at its reet! + +Yo mun know this old Ditherum lived bi hissen, + For he nivver had met wi' a wife; +An th' lasses all sed they'd have nooan sich like men, + For he'd worrit 'em aght o' ther life. +But he grinned as he caanted his guineas o' gold, + An he called hissen "Jolly old trump!" +An he sed, "tho' awm ugly, an twazzy, an old, + Still ther's lots wod bi Mistress Dump." + + Ditherum Dump,--Jolly old trump! + Tho' tha'rt net varry hansum to th' seet, + Yet ther's monny a lass wod be fain o' mi brass, + For mi guineas are bonny an breet. + +Soa he gethered his gold till he grew varry old, + Wi' noa woman to sweeten his life; +Till one day a smart lass chonced his winder to pass. + An he cried, "That's the wench for my wife!" +Soa he show'd her his bags runnin ovver wi' gold, + An he axt her this question reight plump; +"Tho' awm ugly an waspish, an getten soa old, + Will ta come an be my Mistress Dump?" + + "For Mistress Dump shall have gold in a lump, + If tha'll tak me for better or worse;" + Soa shoo says, "Awm yor lass, if yo'll leeav me yor brass, + An aw'll promise to mak a gooid nurse." + +Soa Ditherum Dump an this young lass gate wed, + An th' naybors cried, "Shame! Fie,--for--shame!" +But shoo cared net a button for all at they sed, + For shoo fancied shoo'd played a safe game. +Then Ditherum sickened an varry sooin deed, + An he left her as rich as a Jew, +An shoo had a big tombstun put ovver his heead, + An shoo went into black for him too. + + Nah, Mistress Dump, soa rooasy an plump, + In a carriage gooas ridin up th' street; + An th' lasses sin then all luk aght for old men, + An they're crazy to wed an old freet. + + + +My Polly. + + +My Polly's varry bonny, + Her een are black an breet; +They shine under her raven locks, + Like stars i'th' dark o'th' neet. + +Her little cheeks are like a peach, + 'At th' sun has woo'd an missed; +Her lips like cherries, red an sweet, + Seem moulded to be kissed. + +Her breast is like a drift o' snow, + Her little waist's soa thin, +To clasp it wi' a careless arm + Wod ommost be a sin. + +Her little hands an tiny feet, + Wod mak yo think shoo'd been +Browt up wi' little fairy fowk + To be a fairy queen. + +An when shoo laffs, it saands as if + A little crystal spring, +Wor bubblin up throo silver rocks, + Screened by an angel's wing. + +It saands soa sweet, an yet soa low, + One feels it forms a part +Ov what yo love, an yo can hear + Its echoes in yor heart. + +It isn't likely aw shall win, + An wed soa rich a prize; +But ther's noa tellin what strange things + Man may do, if he tries. + + + +Love one Another. + + +Let's love one another, it's better bi far; +Mak peace wi yor Brother--it's better nor war! +Life's rooad's rough enuff,--let's mak it mooar smooth, +Let's sprinkle awr pathway wi kindness an love. +Ther's hearts at are heavy, and een at are dim, +Ther's deep cups o' sorrow at's full up to th' brim; +Ther's want an misfortun,--ther's crime an ther's sin; +Let's feight 'em wi Love,--for Love's sarten to win. + +Give yor hand,--a kind hand,--to yor brother i' need, +Dooant question his conduct, or ax him his creed,-- +Nor despise him becoss yo may think he's nooan reight, +For, maybe, some daat whether yo're walkin straight. +Dooant set up as judge,--it's a dangerous plan, +Luk ovver his failins,--he's nobbut a man; +Suppooas at he's one at yo'd call 'a hard case,' +What might yo ha been if yo'd been in his place? + +Fowk praich abaat 'Charity,'--'pity the poor,' +But turn away th' beggar at comes to ther door;-- +"Indiscriminate Charity's hurtful," they say, +"We hav'nt got riches to throw em away!" +Noa! but if that Grand Book,--th' Grandest Book ivver writ, +(An if ther's a true Book aw think at that's it,) +Says "What yo have done to th' leeast one o' theas +Yo did unto Me;"--Reckon that if yo pleeas. + +Awm nooan findin fault,--yet aw cant help but see +Ha some roll i' wealth, wol ther's some, starvin, dee; +They grooan "it's a pity;--Poverty is a curse!" +But they button ther pockets, an shut up ther purse. +Ther's few fowk soa poor, but they could if they wod, +Do summat for mankind.--Do summat for God. +It wor Jesus commanded 'To love one another,' +Ther's no man soa lost but can claim thee as Brother. + +Then let us each one, do what little we can, +To help on to comfort a less lucky man; +Remember, some day it may fall to thy lot +To feel poverty's grip, spite o' all at tha's got. +But dooant help another i' hooaps at some day. +Tha'll get it all back.--Nay, a thaasand times Nay! +Be generous an just and wi th' futer ne'er bother;-- +Tha'll nivver regret bein a friend to thi Brother. + + + +Dick an Me. + + +Two old fogies,--Dick an me,-- +Old, an grey as grey can be. +A'a,-but monny a jolly spree + We have had;-- +An tha ne'er went back o' me;-- + Bonny lad! + +All thi life, sin puppy days +We've been chums:--tha knows mi ways;-- +An noa matter what fowk says, + On we jog. +'Spite what tricks dame Fortun plays,-- + Tha'rt my dog. + +Th' world wod seem a dreary spot,-- +All mi joys wod goa to pot;-- +Looansum be mi little cot, + Withaat thee; +A'a, tha knows awst freeat a lot + If tha'd to dee. + +Once on a time we rammeld far +O'er hills an dales, an rugged scar; +Whear fowk, less ventersum, ne'er dar + To set ther feet; +An nowt wor thear awr peace to mar;-- + Oh, it wor sweet! + +But nah, old chap, thi limbs are stiff;-- +Tha connot run an climb--but if +Tha wags thi tail,--why, that's eniff + To cheer me yet; +An th' fun we've had o'er plain an cliff, + Awst ne'er forget. + +If aw, like Burns, could sing thi praise; +Could touch the strings to tune sich lays-- +Tha'd be enshrined for endless days + I' deathless song; +But Fate has will'd it otherways. + Yet, love is strong. + +Blest be that heart 'at finds i' me + What nubdy else could ivver see;-- +Summat to love.--Aye! even thee, + Tha knows its true; +We've shared booath wealth an poverty, + An meean to do. + +When fowk wi kindly hearts aglow, +Say, "Poor old fogies," they dooant know +'At all they own is far below + Thy worth to me; +An all the wealth at they could show + Wod ne'er tempt thee, + +Time's creepin on,--we wait a chonce, +When we shall quit life's mazy donee; +But, please God! Tak us booath at once, + Old Dick an me; +When's time to quit,--why--that announce + When best suits Thee. + + + +Briggate at Setterdy Neet. + + +Sin Leeds wor a city it puts on grand airs, +An aw've noa wish to bother wi' others' affairs; +'At they've mich to be praad on aw freely admit, +But aw think thier's some things they mud alter a bit. +They've raised some fine buildings 'at's worth lookin at,-- +They're a credit to th' city, thers noa daat o' that; +But ther's nowt strikes a stranger soa mich as a seet +O'th' craad 'at's i' Briggate at Setterdy neet. + +Aw've travelled a bit i' booath cities an taans, +An aw've oft seen big craads when they've stept aght o' baands;-- +Well,--excitement sometimes will lead fowk astray, +When they dooant meean owt wrang, but just rollikin play, +But Leeds is a licker,--for tumult an din,-- +For bullies an rowdies an brazzen-faced sin. +Aw defy yo to find me another sich street,-- +As disgraceful, as Briggate at Setterdy neet. + +Poleecemen are standin i' twos an i' threes, +But they must be stooan blinnd to what other fowk sees; +It must be for ornaments they've been put thear,-- +It cant be nowt else, for they dooant interfere. +Young lads who imagine it maks 'em seem men +If they hustle an shaat and mak fooils o' thersen. +Daycent fowk mun leeav th' cawsey for th' middle o'th' street +For its th' roughs at own Briggate at Setterdy neet. + +An if yo've a heart 'at can feel, it must ache +When yo hear ther faal oaths an what coorse jests they make; +Yet once they wor daycent an wod be soa still, +But they've takken th' wrang turnin,--they're gooin daan hill. +Them lasses, soa bonny, just aght o' ther teens, +Wi' faces an figures 'at's fit for a queen's. +What is it they're dooin? Just watch an yo'll see 't, +What they're hawkin i' Briggate at Setterdy neet. + +They keep sendin praichers to th' heathen an sich, +But we've heathen at hooam at require 'em as mich: +Just luk at that craad at comes troopin along, +Some yellin aght th' chorus o'th' new comic song; +Old an young,--men an wimmen,--some bummers, some swells, +Turned aght o' some dnnkin an singin room hells;-- +They seek noa dark corners, they glory i'th' leet, +This is Briggate,--their Briggate, at Setterdy neet. + +Is it axin too mich ov "the powers that be," +For a city's main street from sich curse to be free? +Shall Morality's claims be set all o' one side, +Sich a market for lewdness an vice to provide? +Will that day ivver come when a virtuous lass, +Alone, withaat insult, in safety may pass? +Its time for a change, an awm langin to see 't,-- +A respectable Briggate at Setterdy neet. + +Them well-meeanin parents, at hooam at ther ease, +Are oft wilfully blind to sich dangers as theas; +Their sons an their dowters are honest an pure,-- +That may be,--an pray God it may ivver endure. +But ther's noa poor lost craytur, but once on a time, +Wor as pure as ther own an wod shudder at crime. +The devil is layin his snares for ther feet,-- +An they're swarmin i' Briggate at Setterdy neet. + + + +Awr Annie. + + +Saw yo that lass wi' her wicked een? + That's awr Annie. +Shoo's th' pet o'th' haase, we call her 'queen,' +Shoo's th' bonniest wench wor ivver seen; +Shoo laffs an frolics all th' day throo,-- +Shoo does just what shoo likes to do,-- +But then shoo's loved,--an knows it too;-- + That's awr Annie. + +If ivver yo meet wi' a saucy maid,-- + That's awr Annie. +Shoo's sharp as onny Sheffield blade, +Shoo puts all others into th' shade. +At times shoo'll sing or laff or cry, +An nivver give a reason why: +Sometimes shoo's cheeky, sometimes shy; + That's awr Annie. + +Roamin throo meadows green an sweet, + That's awr Annie; +Trippin away wi' fairy feet, +Noa fairer flaar yo'll ivver meet; +Or in some trees cooil shade shoo caars +Deckin her golden curls wi' flaars; +Singin like happy burd for haars, + That's awr Annie. + +Chock full o' mischief, aw'll admit, + That's awr Annie;-- +But shoo'li grow steadier in a bit, +Shoo'll have mooar wisdom, an less wit. +But could aw have mi way i' this, +Aw'd keep her ivver as shoo is,-- +Th' same innocent an artless miss, + That's awr Annie. + +Child ov mi old age, dearest, best! + That's awr Annie; +Cloise to mi weary bosom prest, +Far mooar nor others aw feel blest;-- +Jewels an gold are nowt to me, +For when shoo's sittin o' mi knee, +Ther's nubdy hawf as rich as me, + Unless it's Annie. + + + +Peter Prime's Principles. + + +"Sup up thi gill, owd Peter Prime, + Tha'st have a pint wi' me; +It's worth a bob at onny time + To have a chat wi' thee. +Aw like to see thi snowy hair, + An cheeks like apples ripe,-- +Come squat thi daan i'th' easy cheer, + Draw up, an leet thi pipe. +Tho' eighty years have left ther trace, + Tha'rt hale an hearty yet, +An still tha wears a smilin face, + As when th' furst day we met. +Pray tell me th' saycret if tha can + What keeps thi heart soa leet, +An leeavs thi still a grand owd man, + At we're all praad to meet?" + +"Why lad, my saycret's plain to see, + An th' system isn't hard; +Just live a quiet life same as me, + An tha'll win th' same reward. +Be honest i' thi dealins, lad, + That keeps a easy mind; +Shun all thi conscience says is bad, + An nivver be unkind. +If others laff becoss tha sticks + To what tha knows is reight, +Why, let 'em laff, dooant let their tricks + Prevent thee keepin straight. +If blessed wi' health, an strong to work + Dooant envy them at's rich; +If duty calls thi nivver shirk, + Tha'rt happier far nor sich. +Contentment's better wealth nor gold, + An labor sweetens life,-- +Ther's nowt at maks a chap grow old, + Like idleness an strife. +Dooant tawk too mich, but what tha says + Be sewer it's allus true; +An let thi ways be honest ways, + An that'll get thi throo. +If tha's a wife, pray dooant forget + Shoo's flesh an blooid like thee; +Be kind an lovin, an aw'll bet + A helpmate true shoo'll be. +Dooant waste thi brass i' rants an sprees, + Or maybe when tha'rt old,-- +Wi' body bent an tott'rin knees, + Tha'll be left aght i'th' cold. +Luk at th' breet side o' ivverything + An varry sooin tha'll see, +Whear providence has placed thi, + Is whear tha owt to be. +Dooant live as if this world wor all, + For th' time will come someday, +When that grim messenger will call, + An tha mun goa away. +Tha'll nivver need to quake or fear, + If tha carries aght this plan, +An them tha's left behind shall hear + 'Thear lies an honest man.'" + + + +Cuckoo! + + +Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Just a word i' thi ear,-- + Aw hooap we shall net disagree; +But aw'm foorced to admit as aw watch thi each year, + At tha seems a big humbug to me. + +We know at tha brings us glad tidins ov Spring, + An for that art entitled to thanks; +But tha maks a poor fist when tha offers to sing, + An tha plays some detestable pranks. + +Too lazy to build a snug hooam for thisel, + Tha lives but a poor vagrant life; +An thi mate is noa better aw'm sooary to tell, + Shoo's unfit to be onny burd's wife. + +Shoo drops her egg into another burd's nest, + An shirks what's her duty to do; +Noa love for her offspring e'er trubbles the breast, + Ov this selfish, hard-hearted Cuckoo. + +Some other poor burd mun attend to her young, + An work hard to find 'em wi' grubs, +An all her reward, is to find befooar long + At her foster child treeats her wi' snubs. + +Tha lives throo all th' sunshine, but th' furst chilly wind + 'At ruffles thi feathers a bit, +Yo gather together an all i' one mind + Turn yor tails,--fly away, an forget. + +Ther's some men just like yo, soa selfish an base, + They dooant care what comes or what gooas; +If they can just manage to live at ther ease, + Ait an drink, an be donn'd i' line clooas, + +Cuckoo, thar't a type ov a lot at aw've met,-- + Aw'm nooan sooary when th' time comes to Part;-- +An i' spite ov all th' poets 'at's lauded thi, yet, + Tha'rt a humbug!--That's just what tha art. + + + +Fowk Next Door. + + +Said Mistress Smith to Mistress Green, + Aw'm feeard we'st ha to flit; +Twelve year i' this same haase we've been, + An should be stoppin yet, +I'th' same old spot, we thowt to spend + If need be twelve year mooar; +But all awr comfort's at an end, + Sin th' fowk moved in next door. + +Yo know aw've nivver hurt a flea, + All th' years at aw've been here; +An fowk's affairs are nowt to me,-- + Aw nivver interfere. +We've had gooid naybors all this while,-- + All honest fowk tho' poor; +But aw can't tolerate sich style + As they put on next door. + +Aw dooant know whear they get ther brass, + It's little wark they do;-- +Ther's eight young bairns, an th' owdest lass + Is gaddin raand th' day throo. +They dress as if they owned a mint, + Throo th' owdest to th' youngest brat, +Noa skimpin an noa sign o' stint, + But aw've nowt to do wi' that. + +Ther's th' maister wears a silk top hat, + An sometimes smooks cigars!-- +An owd clay pipe or sich as that + Is gooid enuff for awrs. +When th' mistress stirs shoo has to ride + I' cabs or else i'th' buss; +But aw mun walk or caar inside; + Ov coorse that's nowt to us. + +Aw wonder if they've paid ther rent? + Awr landlord's same as theirs; +If we should chonce to owe a cent, + He'll put th' bums in he swears. +An th' butcher wodn't strap us mait, + Noa, net if we'd to pine, +Aw daat at their accaant's nooan straight, + But it's noa affair o' mine. + +One can't help havin thowts yo know, + When one meets sich a case; +An nivver sin we lived i'th' row + Did such like things tak place. +Wi' business when it isn't mine, + Aw nivver try to mell, +An if they want to cut a shine + They're like to pleas thersel. + +But stuck up fowk aw ne'er could bide,-- + An pride will have a fall. +Aw connot match 'em, tho' aw've tried, + Aw wish aw could, that's all! +Aw dunnot envy 'em a bit, + Aw'm quite content, tho' poor, +But one on us will ha to flit, + Us or them fowk next door. + + + +Dad's Lad. + + +Little patt'rin, clatt'rin feet, +Runnin raand throo morn to neet; +Banishin mi mornin's nap,-- +Little bonny, noisy chap,-- +But aw can't find fault yo see,-- +For he's Dad's lad an he loves me. + +He loves his mother withaat daat, +Tho' shoo gies him monny a claat; +An he says, "Aw'll tell mi Dad," +Which ov coorse maks mother mad; +Then he snoozles on her knee, +For shoo loves him 'coss shoo loves me. + +He's a bother aw'll admit, +But he'll alter in a bit; +An when older grown, maybe, +He'll a comfort prove to me, +An mi latter days mak glad, +For aw know he's Daddy's lad. + +If he's aght o' sect a minnit, +Ther's some mischief, an he's in it, +When he's done it then he'll flee; +An for shelter comes to me. +What can aw do but shield my lad? +For he's my pet an aw'm his Dad. + +After a day's hard toil an care, +Sittin in mi rockin chair; +Nowt mi wearied spirit charms, +Like him nestlin i' mi arms, +An noa music is as sweet, +As his patt'rin, clatt'rin feet. + + + +Willie's Weddin. + + +A'a, Willie, lad, aw'm fain to hear + Tha's won a wife at last; +Tha'll have a happier time next year, + Nor what tha's had i'th' past. +If owt can lend this life a charm, + Or mak existence sweet, +It is a lovin woman's arm + Curled raand yor neck at neet. + +An if shoo's net an angel, + Dooant grummel an find fault, +For eearth-born angels, lad, tha'll find + Are seldom worth ther salt. +They're far too apt to flee away, + To spreead ther bonny wings; +They'd nivver think o'th' weshin day + Nor th' duties wifehood brings. + +A wife should be a woman, + An if tha's lucky been; +Tha'il find a honest Yorksher lass, + Is equal to a Queen. +For if her heart is true to thee, + An thine to her proves true,-- +Tha's won th' best prize 'at's under th' skies, + An tha need nivver rue. + +Tha'll have to bite thi lip sometimes, + When mooar inclined to sware; +But recollect, no precious things + Bring joy unmixed wi' care. +An when her snarlin turns to smiles, + An bitterness to bliss, +Tha'll yield fresh homage to her wiles, + An mak up wi' a kiss. + +Tha'll happen think 'at shoo's a fooil, + An thy superior wit +Will allus win, an keepin cooil + Tha'll triumph in a bit. +Shoo's happen thinkin th' same o' thee + An holds thi in Love's tether, +Well, nivver heed,--they best agree + When two fooils mate together. + + + +Somdy's Chonce. + + +What's a poor lass like me to do, + 'At langs for a hooam ov her own? +Aw'm a hale an bonny wench too, + An nubdy can say aw'm heigh-flown. +Aw want nawther riches nor style, + Just a gradely plain felly will do; +But aw'm waitin a varry long while + An ov sweethearts aw've getten but two. + +But th' trubble's just this,--let me tell, + What aw want an will have if aw can, +To share wedded life wi' misel, + Is a man 'at's worth callin a man. +But Harry's as stiff as a stoop, + An Jack, onny lass wod annoy,-- +Harry's nobbut a soft nin-com-poop, + An Jack's just a hobble-de-hoy. + +If caarin at th' hob ov a neet, + Wi' a softheeaded twaddlin fooil; +Aw should order him aght o' mi seet, + Or be cooamin his yure wi' a stooil. +His wage,--what it wor,--couldn't bring + Joy enuff to mak up for life's pains, +If aw fan misen teed to a thing, + At could work, ait an live, withaat brains. + +"But ther's love," yo may say,--Hi that's it! + But aw nivver could love a machine; +An aw'll net wed a chap 'at's baat wit, + Net if he could mak me a queen. +Aw'd like one booath hansum an strong, + An honest, truehearted an kind, +But aw'm sewer aw could ne'er get along, + Wi' a felly 'at had'nt a mind. + +Soa Harry will ha to be seckt, + For a nin-com-poop's nowt i' mi line; +As for Jack,--he could nivver expect + To win sich a true heart as mine. +Ther's lasses enuff to be had, + 'At'll jump at sich chonces wi' joy, +They'll tak owt at's i'th' shape ov a lad, + Quite content wi' a hobble-de-hoy. + +Aw dooant want to spend all mi life, + Like a saar, neglected old maid; +Aw'd rayther bi th' hawf be a wife, + Nor to blossom an wither i'th' shade. +Soa if onny young chap wants a mate, + Tho' he may net be hansum nor rich, +If he's getten some sense in his pate, + Aw'm his chonce.--An he need'nt have mich. + + + +To a True Friend. + + +Here'sa song to mi brave old friend, + A friend who has allus been true; +His day's drawin near to its end, + When he'll leeav me, as all friends mun do. +His teeth have quite wasted away, + He's grown feeble an blind o' one ee, +His hair is all sprinkled wi' gray, + But he's just as mich thowt on bi me. + +When takkin a stroll into th' taan, + He's potterin cloise at mi heels; +Noa matter whearivver aw'm baan, + His constancy nivver once keels. +His feyts an his frolics are o'er, + But his love nivver offers to fail; +An altho' some may fancy us poor, + They could'nt buy th' wag ov his tail. + +If th' grub is sometimes rayther rough, + An if prospects for better be dark; +He nivver turns surly an gruff, + Or shows discontent in his bark. +Ther's nubdy can tice him away,-- + He owns but one maister,--that's me, +He seems to know all 'at aw say, + An maks th' best ov his lot, what it be. + +Aw've towt him a trick, nah an then, + Just when it has suited mi whim; +But aw'm foorced to admit to misen, + At aw've leearned far mooar lessons throo him. +He may have noa soul to be saved, + An when life ends i' this world he's done; +But aw wish aw could say aw'd behaved + Hawf as weel, when my life's journey's run. + +Yo may call it a fooilish consait,-- + But to me he's soa faithful an dear, +'At whativver mi futer estate, + Aw'st feel looansum if Dick isn't thear. +But if foorced to part, once for all, + An his carcase to worms aw mun give, +His mem'ry aw oft shall recall, + For he nivver can dee wol aw live. + + + +Warmin Pan. + + +That old warmin pan wi' it's raand, brazzen face, + Has hung thear for monny a day; +'Twor mi Gronny's, an th' haase wodn't luk like th' same place, + If we tuk th' owd utensil away. + +We ne'er use it nah,--but aw recollect th' time, + When at neet it wor filled wi' red cowks; +An ivvery bed gate weel warmed, except mine, + For they sed it wornt meant for young fowks. + +When old Gronny deed, t'wornt mich shoo possest, + An mi mother coom in for all th' lot; +An shoo raised up a duzzen, misen amang th' rest, + An shoo lived wol shoo deed i'th' same cot. + +Aw'm th' maister here nah, but aw see plain enuff, + Things willn't goa long on th' old plan; +Th' young ens turn up ther nooases at old-fashioned stuff, + An mak gam o' mi old warmin pan. + +But aw luk at it oft as it glimmers i'th' leet, + An aw seem to live ovver once mooar; +Them days when mi futer wor all seemin breet, + An aw thowt nowt but joy wor i' stooar. + +Aw'm summat like th' pan, aw've aght lasted mi day, + An aw'st sooin get mi nooatice to flit; +But aw've this consolation,--aw think aw may say, + Aw'st leeav some 'at aw've warmed up a bit. + + + +It may be Soa. + + +This world's made up ov leet an shade, + But some things strange aw mark; +One class live all on th' sunny side, + Wol others dwell i'th' dark. +Wor it intended some should grooap, + Battlin with th' world o' care, +Wol others full ov joy an hooap + Have happiness to spare? + + It may be soa,--aw'll net contend, + Opinions should be free;-- + Aw'm nobbut spaikin as a friend,-- + But it seems that way to me. + +Should one class wear ther lives away, + To mak another great; +Wol all their share will hardly pay, + For grub enuff to ait? +An is it reight at some should dress + I' clooas bedeckt wi' gold, +Wol others havn't rags enuff, + To keep ther limbs throo th' cold? + + It may be soa,--aw'll net contend, &c, + +When gazin at th' fine palaces, + Whear live the favoured few; +Aw cant help wonderin sometimes + If th' inmates nobbut knew, +At th' buildins next to their's i' size + Are workhaases for th' poor, +An if they'd net feel some surprise + At th' misery raand ther door? + + It may be soa,--aw'll net contend, &c. + +Sometimes aw wonder what chaps think + When shiverin wi' th' cold, +Abaat th' brass at they've spent i' drink, + Whear th' landlords caant ther gold. +They couldn't get a shillin lent, + To buy a bit o' breead, +Whear all ther wages have been spent,-- + They'd get kickt aght asteead. + + It may be soa,--aw'll net contend, &c. + +Aw wonder if they'll leearn some day, + At th' best friend they can find, +When th' shop's shut daan, an stopt ther pay, + Is ther own purse snugly lined? +Aw wonder, will th' time ivver come, + When th' darkest day is done, +When they can sing of Home Sweet Home. + An know they've getten one? + + It may be soa, aw hooap it will, + For then we'st all be free; + When ivvery man's his own best friend,-- + Gooid by to poverty. + + + +A Safe Investment. + + +Yo fowk 'at's some brass to invest, + Luk sharp an mak th' best ov yor chonce! +Aw'll gie yo a tip,--one o'th' best, + Whear ther's profit an safety for once. +Yo needn't be feeard th' bank 'll brust, + Or at onny false 'Jabez' will chait,-- +Depend on't its one yo can trust, + For th' balance sheet's sewer to be reight. + +Yo've heeard on it oftimes befooar,-- + But mooast fowk are apt to forget;-- +Yet yo know if yo give to the poor, + At yo're gettin the Lord i' yor debt. +Its as plain as is th' nooas o' yor face, + An its true too,--believe it or net,-- +It's a bargain God made i' this case, + An He'll nivver back aght on't,--yo bet. + +All th' wealth yo may have can't prevent + Grim Deeath commin to yo some day; +An yo'll have to give up ivvery cent, + When yor time comes for gooin away. +But yo'll dee wi' a leetsomer heart, + An for what yo leeav care net a straw, +Earth's losses will cause yo noa smart, + If i' Heaven yo've summat to draw. + +Its useless to pray an to praich,-- + Yo can't fill fowk's bellies wi' wynd; +Put summat to ait i' ther raich, + An then lectur em all yo've a mind; +Ther's poor folk on ivvery hand, + Yo can't shut yor ears to ther cry;-- +A wail ov woe's sweepin throo th' land, + Which may turn to a rooar by-an-bye. + +Yo can't expect chaps who have wives, + An childer at's clammin i'th' cold, +To be patient an quiet all ther lives, + When they see others rollin i' gold. +When th' workers are beggin for jobs, + An th' helpless are starvin to deeath, +It's just abaat time some o'th' nobs + Wor reminded they dooant own all th' eearth. + +If ther duties they still will neglect, + An ther pomps an ther pleasurs pursue, +They may find when they little expect, + 'At they've getten thersen in a stew. +Yo may trample a worm wol it turns,-- + An ther's danger i' starvin a rat;-- +A man's passion inflamed wol it burns, + Is a danger mooar fearful nor that. + +But why should ther be sich distress, + When ther's plenty for all an to spare? +Sewerly them at luck's blest can't do less + Nor to help starvin fowk wi' a share. +Rich harvests yo'll win from the seed + When theas welcome words fall on yor ear,-- +"What yo did to th' leeast brother i' need, + Yo did unto Me;--Come in here." + + + +Red Stockin. + + +Shoo wor shoeless, an shiverin, an weet,-- + Her hair flyin tangled an wild: +Shoo'd just been browt in aght o'th street, + Wi drink an mud splashes defiled. +Th' poleece sargent stood waitin to hear + What charge agean her wod be made, +He'd scant pity for them they browt thear, + To be surly wor pairt ov his trade. +"What name?" an he put it i'th' book,-- + An shoo hardly seemed able to stand; +As shoo tottered, he happened to luk + saw summat claspt in her hand. +"What's that? Bring it here right away! + You can't take that into your cell;" +"It's nothing." "Is that what you say? + Let me have it and then I can tell." +"Nay, nay! yo shall nivver tak this! + It's dearer nor life is to me! +Lock me up, if aw've done owt amiss, + But aw'll stick fast to this wol aw dee!" +"No nonsense!" he sed wi a frown, + An two officers speedily came; +Shoo seem'd to have soberer grown, + But shoo fowt like a fiend, just the same. +"Is it money or poison?" he sed,-- + An unfolded it quickly to see; +When sum in at fell aght,--soft an red, + An it rested across ov his knee. +'Twor a wee babby's stockin,--just one, + But his hard face grew gentle and mild, +As he sed in his kindliest tone, + "This stockin was worn by your child?" +"Yes, sir,--an its all at aw have + To remind me ov when aw wor pure, +For mi husband an child are i'th' grave;-- + Yo'll net tak it throo me, aw'm sewer!" +"No, not for the world would I take + Your treasure round which love has grown; +Pray keep it for poor baby's sake;-- + I once lost a child of my own." +And he folded it up wi much care + As he lukt at her agonized face;-- +A face at had once been soa fair, + But nah bearin th' stamp ov disgrace. +"You seem soberer now,--do you think + You could find your way home if you tried?" +"Oh! yes, sir! God help me! It's Drink + At has browt me to this, sir," shoo cried. +"God help you! Be sure that He will; + If you seek Him, He'll come to your aid; +He is longing and waiting there still + To receive you;--none need be afraid. +The mother whose heart still retains + The love for her babe pure and bright, +May have err'd, but the hope still remains + That she yet will return. Now, Good night." + + ---------- + +With his kindly words still in her ears, + An that little red sock in her breast; +Shoo lukt up to Heaven through her tears; + An her faith, in Christ's love did the rest. + + + +Plain Jane. + + + Plain Jane--plain Jane; +This wor owd Butterworth's favourite strain: + For wealth couldn't buy, + Such pleasur an joy. +As he had wi his owd plain Jane. + Ther wor women who oft, + Maybe, thinkin him soft, +Who endeavoured to 'tice him away, + But tho ther breet een, + An ther red cheeks had been +Quite enuffto lead others astray,-- + All ther efforts wor lost, + For he knew to his cost, +'At th' pleasur they promised browt pain, + Soa he left em behind, + Wol he went hooam to find, +Purer pleasures i'th' arms o' plain Jane. + + Plain Jane,--plain Jane,-- +Owd Butterworth sed he'd noa cause to complain: + Shoo wor hearty an strong, + An could troll aght a song, +An trubbles shoo held i' disdain, + He'd not sell her squint + For all th' brass i'th' mint, +Nor pairt wi her blossomin nooas; + He's no rival to fear, + Soa he keeps i' gooid cheer, +An cares nowt ha th' world comes or it gooas. + Cats are all gray at neet, + Soa when puttin aght th' leet, +As he duckt under th' warm caanterpain, + He sed, "Beauty breeds strife + Oft between man an wife, +But it ne'er trubbles me nor awr Jane." + + Plain Jane,--plain Jane,-- +To cuddle and coddle him allus wor fain; + Shoo wod cook, stew or bake, + Wesh and scaar for his sake, +An could doctor his ivvery pain. + Tho his wage wor but small + Shoo ne'er grummeld at all, +An if th' butter should chonce to run short; + Her cake shoo'd ait dry, + If axt why? shoo'd reply, +Becoss aw know weel ther's nowt for't. + But th' harstun wor cleean, + Tho th' livin wor meean, +An her karacter hadn't a stain; + An owd Butterworth knows, + As his bacca he blows, +Ther's war wimmen ith' world nor owd Jane. + + + +Cash V. Cupid. + + +Aw dooat on a lass wi' a bonny face, + Wi' a twinkle ov fun in her ee;-- +An aw like a lass 'at's some style an grace, + An aw'm fond o' one winnin an shy. +An ther's one 'at's a lot o' curly hair, + An a temptinly dimpled chin, +An one 'at's sedate an cold tho' fair, + But shoo wod'nt be easy to win. + +Ther's one 'at's a smile ivvery time we meet, + An ther's one 'at seems allus sad; +Yet ther's sum mat abaat 'em all seems sweet,-- + Just a sum mat aw wish aw had. +But somha aw connot mak up mi mind, + Which one to seek for a wife; +An its wise to be careful if love is blind, + For a weddin oft lasts for a life. + +Ther's one 'at has nawther beauty nor wit,-- + Just a plain lukkin, sensible lass; +But shoo's one thing 'at adds to her vally a bit,-- + An that is 'at shoo's plenty o' brass. +An beauty will fade an een will grow dim, + Ther's noa lovin care can help that; +An th' smartest young woman, tho' stylish an slim, + May i' time grow booath clumsy an fat. + +Soa aw think aw shall let thowts o' beauty slide by, + For a workin chap must be a crank, +'At sees mooar in a dimple or twinklin eye, + Nor in a snug sum in a bank. +Some may say ther's noa love in a weddin like this, + An its nowt but her brass 'at aw want, +Well, maybe they can live on a smile or a kiss, + If they can,--why, they may,--but aw cant. + + + +Mary's Bonnet. + + +Have yo seen awr Mary's bonnet? + It's a stunner,--noa mistak! +Ther's a bunch o' rooasies on it, + An a feather daan her back. +Yollo ribbons an fine laces, + An a cock-a-doodle-doo, +An raand her bonny face is + A string o' pooasies blue. + +When shoo went to church last Sundy, + Th' parson could'nt find his text; +An fat old Mistress Grundy + Sed, "A'a, Mary! pray what next!" +Th' lads wink'd at one another,-- + Th' lasses snikered i' ther glee, +An th' whooal o'th' congregation + Had her bonnet i' ther ee. + +Sooin th' singers started singin, + But they braik daan one bi one, +For th' hymn wor on "The flowers + Of fifty summers gone." +But when they saw awr Mary, + They made a mullock on it, +For they thowt 'at all them flaars + Had been put on Mary's bonnet. + +Then th' parson sed mooast kindly, + "Ther wor noa offence intended; +But flaar shows wor aght o' place, + I'th' church whear saints attended. +An if his errin sister wished + To find her way to glory; +Shoo should'nt carry on her heead, + A whooal consarvatory." + +Nah, Mary is'nt short o' pluck,-- + Shoo jumpt up in a minnit, +Shoo lukt as if shoo'd swollo th' church, + An ivverybody in it. +"Parson," shoo sed, "yor heead is bare,-- + Nowt in it an nowt on it; +Suppooas yo put some flaars thear, + Like theas 'at's in my bonnet." + + + +Prime October. + + +Ther's some fowk like watter, + An others like beer; +It doesn't mich matter, + If ther heead is kept clear. +But to guzzle an swill, + As if aitin an drinkin +Wor all a chap lives for, + Is wrang to my thinkin. + +Ivvery gooid thing i' life + Should be takken i' reason; +Even takkin a wife + Should be done i'th' reight season. +Tho' i' that case to give + Advice is noa use, +Aw should ne'er win fowk's thanks + But might get some abuse. + +But if ther's a fault + 'At we owt to luk ovver, +It's when a chap's tempted + Wi' "prime old October." +An to cheer up his spirits + As nowt else on earth could, +He keeps testin its merits, + An gets mooar nor he should. + +Ov coorse he'll be blamed + If he gets ovver th' mark; +An noa daat he'll feel shamed + When he's throo wi' his lark. +An he'll promise "it nivver + Shall happen agean," +Tho' he's feelin all th' time + Just as dry as a bean. + +But who can resist, + When it sparkles an shines; +An his nooas gets a whif + At's mooar fragrant nor wines? +Aw'd forgie a teetotaller + At sich times, if he fell;-- +For aw know ha it is, + 'Coss aw've been thear mysel. + + + + +Old Dave to th' New Parson. + + +"Soa, yo're th' new parson, are yo? + Well, awm fain to see yo've come; +Yo'll feel a trifle strange at furst, + But mak yorsen at hooam. + +Aw hooap yo'll think nor war o' me, + If aw tell what's in mi noddle, +Remember, if we dooant agree, + It's but an old man's twaddle. + +But aw might happen drop a hint, + 'At may start yo to thinkin; +Awd help yo if aw saw mi way, + An do it too, like winkin. + +Awm net mich up o' parsons,-- + Ther's some daycent ens aw know; +They're smart enuff at praichin, + But at practice they're too slow. + +For dooin gooid nooan can deny + Ther chonces are mooast ample; +If they'd give us fewer precepts, + An rayther moor example. + +We need a friend to help waik sheep, + Oe'r life's rough ruts an boulders;-- +Ther's a big responsibility + Rests on a parson's shoulders. + +But oft ther labor's all in vain, + Noa matter ha persistent; +Becoss ther taichin an ther lives + Are hardly quite consistent. + +Ther's nowt can shake ther faith in God, + When bad is growing worse; +An nowt abate ther trust, unless + It chonce to touch ther purse. + +They say, "Who giveth to the poor, + Lends to the Lord," but yet, +They all seem varry anxious, + Net to get the Lord in debt. + +But wi my fooilish nooations + Mayhap yo'll net agree,-- +Its like enuff 'at awm mistaen,-- + But it seems that way to me. + +If yo hear a clivver sarmon, + Yor attention it command's, +If yo know at th' praicher's heart's as white + As what he keeps his hands. + +Ther's too mich love ov worldly ways, + An too mich affectation; +They work i'th' vinyard a few days, + Then hint abaat vacation. + +He has to have a holiday + Because he's worked soa hard;-- +Well, aw allus think 'at labor + Is desarvin ov reward. + +What matters, tho' his little flock + A shepherd's care is wantin: +Old Nick may have his run o'th' fold + Wol he's off galavantin. + +Aw dooant say 'at yo're sich a one, + Yo seem a gradely sooart; +But if yo' th' Gospel armour don, + Yo'll find it isn't spooart. + +Dooant sell yor heavenly birthright, + For a mess ov worldly pottage: +But spend less time i'th' squire's hall + An moor i'th' poor man's cottage. + +Point aght the way an walk in it, + They'll follow, one bi one, +An when yo've gained yor journey's end, + Yo'll hear them words, "Well done." + +A Christian soldier has to be, + Endurin, bold an brave; +Strong in his faith he'll sewerly win, + As sewer as my name's Dave." + + + +Tom Grit. + + +He'd a breet ruddy face an a laffin e'e, +An his shoolders wer brooad as brooad need be; +For each one he met he'd a sally o' wit, +For a jovjal soul wor this same Tom Grit. +He climb'd up to his waggon's heigh seeat wi' pride, +For he'd bowt a new horse 'at he'd nivver tried; +But he had noa fear, for he knew he could drive +As weel, if net better, nor th' best man alive. +Soa he sed, as he gethered his reins in his hand, +An prepared to start off on a journey he'd planned; +But some 'at stood by shook ther heeads an lukt grave, +For they'd daats ha that mettlesum horse might behave. +It set off wi' a jerk when Tom touched it wi' th' whip, +But his arms they wor strong, an like iron his grip, +An he sooin browt it daan to a nice steady gait, +But it tax'd all his skill to mak it run straight. +Two miles o' gooid rooad to the next taan led on, +An ov things like to scare it he knew ther wor none; +Soa he slackened his reins just to give it a spin,-- +Then he faand 'at he couldn't for th' world hold it in. +It had th' bit in its teeth an its een fairly blazed, +An it plunged an reared madly,--an then as if crazed +It dashed along th' rooad like a fury let lawse, +Woll Tom tried his utmost to steady his course. +Wi' the reins raand his hands, an feet planted tight +He strained ivvery muscle,--but saw wi' affright +'At the street o' the taan 'at he'd entered wor fill'd, +Wi' fowk fleein wildly for fear they'd be kill'd, +"Let it goa! Let it goa!" they cried aght as it pass'd, +An Tom felt his strength givin way varry fast; +His hands wor nah helpless its mad rush to check, +But he duckt daan his heead an lapt th' reins raand his neck. +That jerk caused the horse to loise hold o' the bit, +An new hooap an new strength seem'd to come to Tom Grit, +An tho' blooid throo his ears an his nooas 'gan to spurt, +Th' horse wor browt to a stand, an ther'd nubdy been hurt. +Then chaps went to hold it, an help poor Tom daan, +For Tom's wor a favorite face i' that taan; +"Tha should ha let goa," they all sed, "an jumpt aght, +Thy life's worth a thaasand sich horses baght daat!" +But Tom wiped his face an he sed as he smiled, +"I'th' back o' that waggon yo'll find ther's a child, +An aw couldn't goa back to its mother alooan, +For he's all th' lad we have. Have yo nooan o' yer own?" + + + +Th' Demon o' Debt. + + +We read ov a man once possessed ov a devil, + An pity his sorrowful case; +But at this day we fancy we're free from sich evil, + An noa mooar have that trubble to face. +But dooan't be deceived, for yo're nooan aght o' danger, + Ther's a trap for yor feet ready set, +An if to sich sorrow yo'd still be a stranger, + Be careful to keep aght o' debt. + +For debt is a demon 'at nivver shows pity, + An when once yor fast in his grip, +Yo may try to luk wise or appear to be witty, + But he'll drive yo to wreck wi' his whip. +He tempts yo to start wi' a little at furst, + An then deeper an deeper yo get, +Till at last yo find aght 'at yor life is accurst, + An yo grooan under th' burden o' debt. + +Then sweet sleep forsakes yo an tossin wi' care, + Yo wearily wear neet away; +An yor joys an yor hopes have all turned to despair, + An yo tremmel at th' commin o' day. +Yor een are daancast as yo walk along th' street, + An yo shun friends yo once gladly met, +The burden yo carry yo fancy they see 't;-- + That soul-crushin burden o' debt. + +Tak an old man's advice, if yo'd keep aght o' trubble, + An let 'pay as yo goa,' be yor plan; +Tho' yor comforts are fewer, yor joys will be double, + An yo'll hold up yor heead like a man, +Better far wear a patch on yor elbow or knee, + Till yo're able a new suit to get, +Nor be dressed like a prince, an whearivver yo be, + To be dog'd wi' that Demon o' Debt. + + + +Th' Lad 'at Loves his Mother. + + +Aw like to see a lot o' lads + All frolicsome an free, +An hear ther noisy voices, + As they run an shaat wi' glee; +But if ther's onny sooart o' lad + Aw like better nor another, +'At maks mi heart mooast truly glad, + It's th' lad 'at loves his Mother. + +He may be rayther dull at schooil, + Or rayther slow at play; +He may be rough an quarrelsome,-- + Mischievous in his way; +He may be allus in a scrape, + An cause noa end o' bother; +But ther's summat gooid an honest + In the lad 'at loves his Mother. + +He may oft do what isn't reight, + But conscience will keep prickin; +He dreeads far mooar his mother's grief, + Nor what he'd fear a lickin. +Her trubbled face,--her tearful een, + Her sighs shoo tries to smother, +Are coals ov foir on the heead + Ov th' lad 'at loves his Mother. + +When years have passed, an as a man + He faces toil an care; +An whear his mother used to sit + Is but a empty chair;-- +When bi his side sits her he loves, + Mooar dear nor onny other, +He still will cherish, love an bless, + The mem'ry ov his Mother. + +A guardian angel throo life's rooad, + Her spirit still will be; +An in the shadow ov her wings, + He'll find security. +A better husband he will prove, + A father or a brother; +For th' lad 'at maks the noblest man, + Is th' lad 'at loves his Mother. + + + +Matilda Jane. + + +Matilda Jane wor fat an fair, + An nobbut just sixteen; +Shoo'd ruddy cheeks an reddish hair, + An leet blue wor her een. +Shoo weighed abaat two hundred pund, + Or may be rayther mooar, +Shoo had to turn her sideways + When shoo went aght o'th' door. + +Shoo fairly dithered as shoo walked, + Shoo wor as brooad as long; +But allus cheerful when shoo tawk'd, + An liked to sing a song; +An some o'th' songs shoo used to sing, + Aw weel remember yet; +Aw thowt it sich a funny thing, + Shoo pickt soa strange a set, + +"Put me in my little bed," + Aw knew they couldn't do; +For onny bed to put her in, + Must be big enuff for two. +"Aw wish aw wor a burd," shoo sang, + Aw nivver could tell why,-- +For it wod be a waste o' wings + Becoss shoo couldn't fly. + +"I'd choose to be a Daisy," + Aw didn't wonder at, +For it must ha made her crazy + To hug that looad o' fat. +Then "Flitting like a Fairy;"-- + To hear it gave me pain, +For ther wor novvt soa airy + Abaat Matilda Jane. + +Last time aw heeard her singin, + Shoo sang "You'll remember me," +An mi arm crept pairtly raand her, + As aw held her on mi knee. +Ther's noa fear aw shall forget her, + Tho' shoo's ne'er set thear agean, +But if shoo will, aw'll let her, + For aw like Matilda Jane. + + + +Modest Jack o' Wibsey Slack. + + +At Wibsey Slack lived modest Jack, + No daat yo knew him weel; +His cheeks wor red, his een wor black, + His limbs wor strong as steel. +His curly hair wor black as jet, + His spirits gay an glad, +An monny a lass her heart had set + On Jack the Wibsey lad. + +Sal Simmons kept a little shop, + An bacca seld, an spice, +An traitle drink, an ginger pop, + An other things as nice. +Shoo wor a widow, fat an fair, + An allus neat an trim; +An Jack seem'd fairly stuck on her; + An shoo wor sweet on him. + +But other lasses thowt they had + A claim on Jack's regard; +A widow to win sich a lad, + They thowt wor very hard; +They called her a designin jade, + An one an all cried "Shame!" +But Sally kept on wi her trade, + An Jack went just the same. + +One neet when commin hooam throo wark, + They stopt him on his way, +An pluckt up courage, as 't wor dark, + To say what they'd to say. +They sed they thowt a widow should + Let lasses have a share, +An net get ivvery man shoo could; + They didn't think it fair, + +Jack felt his heart goa pit-a-pat, + His face wor burnin red; +His heart wor touched,--noa daat o' that, + But this wor what he sed. +"Awd like to wed yo ivvery one, + An but for th' law aw wod, +But weel yo know if th' job wor done, + They'd put me into quod." + +"As aw can mak but one mi wife,-- + Sal Simmons suits me weel; +For aw wor ne'er wed i' mi life, + An dooan't know ha awst feel. +But if aw wed a widow, an + Aw fail mi pairt to play; +Shoo'll varry likely understand, + An put me into th' way. + + + +Work Lads! + + +Work if tha can, it's thi duty to labor; + If able, show willin,--ther's plenty to do, +Ther's battles to feight withaat musket or sabre, + But if tha'll have pluck tha'll be safe to pool throo. + +Ther's noa use sittin still wishin an sighin, + An waitin for Fortun to gie yo a lift; +For ther's others i'th' struggle an time keeps on flyin, + An him who wod conquer mun show he's some shift. + +Ther's nobbut one friend 'at a chap can depend on, + If he's made up his mind to succeed in the strife; +A chap's but hissen 'at he can mak a friend on, + Unless he be blest wi' a sensible wife. + +But nivver let wealth, wi' its glamour an glitter, + Be th' chief end o' life or yo'll find when too lat, +'At th' fruits ov yor labor will all have turned bitter, + An th' pleasures yo hoped for are all stale an flat. + +Do gooid to yorsen, win wealth, fame, or power, + But i'th' midst ov it all keep this object i' view; +'At the mooar yo possess, let yor self-love sink lower, + An pure pleasur will spring from the gooid yo can do. + + + +Bonny Yorksher. + + +Bonny Yorksher! how aw love thi! + Hard an rugged tho' thi face is; +Ther's an honest air abaat thi, + Aw ne'er find i' other places. +Ther's a music i' thi lingo, + Spreeads a charm o'er hill an valley, +As a drop ov Yorksher stingo + Warms an cheers a body's bally. +Ther's noa pooasies 'at smell sweeter, + Nor thy modest moorland blossom, +Th' violet's een ne'er shone aght breeter + Nor on thy green mossy bosom. +Hillsides deckt wi' purple heather, + Guard thy dales, whear plenty dwellin +Hand i' hand wi' Peace, together + Tales ov sweet contentment tellin. +On the scroll ov fame an glory, + Names ov Yorksher heroes glisten; +History tells noa grander stooary, + An it thrills me as aw listen. +Young men blest wi' brain an muscle, + Swarm i' village, taan an city, +Nah as then prepared to tussle, + Wi' the brave, the wise, the witty. +An thy lasses,--faithful,--peerless,-- + Matchless i' ther bloom an beauty,-- +Modest, lovin, brave an fearless, + Praad ov Hooam an firm to Duty. +Aw've met nooan i' other places + Can a cannle hold beside 'em; +Rich i' charms an winnin graces;-- + Aw should know becoss aw've tried 'em. +Balmy breezes, blow yer mildest! + Sun an shaars yer blessins shed! +Thrush an blackburd pipe yor wildest + Skylarks trill heigh ovverheead! +Robin redbreast,--little linnet, + Sing yor little songs wi' glee; +Till wi' melody each minnit, + Makin vocal bush an tree. +Wild flaars don yer breetest dresses, + Breathe sweet scents on ivvery gale; +Stately trees wave heigh yer tresses, + Flingin charms o'er hill an dale. +Dew fall gently,--an sweet Luna, + Keep thy lovin watch till morn;-- +All unite to bless an prosper, + That dear spot whear aw wor born. + + + +Sixty an Sixteen. + + +We're older nor we used to be, + But that's noa reason why +We owt to mope i' misery, + An whine an grooan an sigh. + +We've had awr shares o' ups an daans, + I' this world's whirligig; +An for its favors or its fraans + We needn't care a fig. + +Let them, at's enterin on life + Be worried wi' its cares; +We've tasted booath its joys an strife, + They're welcome nah to theirs. + +To tak things easy owt to be + An old man's futer plan, +Till th' time comes when he has to dee,-- + Then dee as weel's he can. + +It's foolish nah to brood an freeat, + Abaat what might ha been; +At sixty we dooant see wi' th' een, + We saw wi at sixteen. + +Young shoolders worn't meant to bear + Old heeads, an nivver will; +Youth had its fling when we wor thear, + An soa it will have still. + +Aw wodn't live life o'er agean, + Unless 'at aw could start +Quite free throo knowledge o' this world, + Quite free in heead an heart. + +That perfect trust 'at childer have, + Gives life its greatest charm; +Noa wisdom after years can give, + Will keep ther hearts as warm. + +When nearin th' bottom o' life's hill, + If we, when lukkin back, +Can see some seeds ov gooid we've sown, + Are bloomin on awr track; + +Wol th' evil deeds we did shall be + All trampled aght o' seet; +Awr journey's end will peaceful be, + An deeath itsen be sweet. + +Then let's give thanks for mercies past, + That've kept awr hearts still green; +For thar't just as dear at sixty, lass, + As when tha wor sixteen. + + + +Come thi Ways in. + + +Come thi ways in, an God bless thi, lad! + Come thi ways in, for thar't welcome, joy! +A'a! tha'rt a shockin young taistrel, lad, + But tha artn't as bad as they call thi, doy. + +Tha'rt thi father upheeaped an daanthrussen, lad, + It's his mother 'at knows what a glaid wor he;-- +But thi britches' knees are booath brussen, lad, + An thi jacket, its raillee a shame to see. + +It's weel for thee tha's a gronny, lad,-- + If it wornt for me tha'd be lost i' muck! +Tha'rt wild, but tha'rt better ner monny, lad, + An aw think 'at tha'll yet bring thi gronny gooid luck. + +Nah, pool up to th' table an dry thi nooas;-- + (Awd nooan leearn mi appron to onny but thee,) +Wol tha'rt fillin thi belly aw'll patch up thi clooas, + Then aw'll send thi hooam daycent an cleean tha'll see. + +Nah, what are ta dooin wi' th' pussy cat, pray? + If tha'll leeav it alooan it'll mell nooan o' thee, +Put th' mustard spooin daan! Does ta hear what aw say! + Let goa that cat tail! Ha tha aggravates me! + +Tha mooant dip thi finger i'th' traitle pot, doy, + (Tho' aw reckon tha follers th' example tha's set,) +Mothers, nah days, dooan't know ha to train childer, joy, + But tha'll heed what thi gronny says,--willn't ta, pet? + +A'a, dear! nah tha's upset thi basin o' stew! + All ovver thisen an mi cleean scarrd flooar:-- +Tha clumsy young imp; what next will ta do? + Tha'd wear aght job's patience, an twice as mich mooar! + +Hold thi din! or aw'll gie thi a taste o' that strap! + Tha maks it noa better wi' yellin like that! +Come, whisht nah,--'twor nobbut a little mishap;-- + Nah, whisht,--an tha'll see ha we'll leather yond cat. + +Nah, dooan't touch mi thimel or needle an threead; + Sit daan like a gooid little child as tha art; +Wol aw wipe up this mess, an side th' butter an breead, + Then aw'll gie thi a penny to buy thi a tart. + +For tha puts me i' mind ov a time long ago, + When thi father wor just sich a jockey as thee; +An tho' aw'm a widdy, an poor as a crow, + Ther'll be allus a bite an a sup for thee. + +Tak thi booits off that fender! Tha's made it fair black; + Just see ha tha's scratched it! Aw'm sewer it's a sin! +Jump into theas clooas an fly hooam in a crack, + Or aw'll braik ivvery booan 'at tha has i' thi skin! + +An stop hooam, until tha knows ha to behave, + Tha'd worrit my life aght i' less nor a wick! +Tell thi mother aw'm net gooin to be just a slave + To a taistrel like thee! soa nah, off tha gooas--Quick! + + + +Horton Tide. + + +Wor yo ivver at Horton Tide? +It wor thear 'at aw won mi bride; + An the joy o' mi life, + Is mi dear little wife, +An we've three little childer beside. + +Aw wor donn'd in a new suit o'clooas, +A cigar wor stuck under mi nooas, + Aw set aght for a spree, + An some frolics to see, +Full o' fun throo mi heead to mi tooas. + +Aw met Lijah an Amos, an Bill, +An ov coorse wi' each one aw'd a gill; + Till aw felt rayther mazy, + But net at all crazy, +For aw didn't goa in for mi fill. + +As a lad aw'd been bashful an shy, +An aw blushed if a woman went by, + But this day bi gooid luck, + Aw felt chock full o' pluck, +Soa to leet on aw sattled to try. + +As aw wandered abaat along th' street, +Who, ov all i' this world should aw meet! + But Mary o' Jooas, + Lukkin red as a rooas, +A'a! but shoo wor bonny an sweet. + +Aw nodded an walked bi her side, +To mak misen pleasant aw tried, + But shoo smiled as shoo sed, + 'Aw wor wrang i' mi heead,' +An aw'm sewer aw dooan't think 'at shoo lied. + +Then aw bowt her some parkin an spice, +An owt else 'at shoo fancied lukt nice, + Then we tuk a short walk, + An we had a long tawk; +Then aw axt if shoo thowt we should splice. + +What happen'd at after yo'll guess,-- +It wor heaven to me, an nowt less;-- + For aw left Horton Tide, + Wi' a promised fair bride, +Soa mi frolic wor craand wi' success. + +For shoo's one i' ten thaasand yo see; +An shoo shows 'at shoo's suited wi' me, + An yo chaps 'at want wives + 'At will gladden yer lives, +Up at Horton yo'll find 'em to be. + + + +Mi Old Slippers. + + +Aw'm wearily trudgin throo mire an weet, + For aw've finished another day's wark; +An welcome to me is that flickerin leet, + 'At shines throo mi winder i'th' dark. +Aw know ther's mi drinkin just ready o'th' hob, + An a hearthstun as cleean as can be, +For that old wife o' mine allus maks it her job, + To have ivverything gradely for me. + +It isn't mich time aw can spend wi' th' old lass, + For aw'm tewin throo early till lat, +An its all aw can do just to get as mich brass + As we need, an sometimes hardly that. +But we keep aght o' debt, soa mi heart's allus leet, + An aw sweeten mi wark wi' a song; +An we try to mak th' best ov what trubbles we meet, + An contentedly struggle along. + +Two trusty old friends anent th' foir are set, + They are waitin thear ivvery neet; +They're nobbut a pair o' old slippers, but yet, + They give comfort an rest to mi feet. +Like misen an mi wife, they're fast wearin away,-- + They've been shabby for monny a year; +They have been a hansum pair once, aw can say, + Yet to me they wor nivver mooar dear. + +Aw hooap they may last wol aw'm summon'd away, + An this life's journey peacefully ends; +For to part wod feel hard, for at this time o'th' day, + It's too lat to be makkin new friends. +Aw know varry weel 'at ther end must be near, + For aw see ha they're worn daan at th' heel; +But they've sarved me reight weel, an aw'st ha nowt to fear, + If aw've sarved His purpose as weel + + + +A Friend to Me. + + +Poor Dick nah sleeps quietly, his labor is done, + Deeath shut off his steam tother day; +His engine, long active, has made its last run, + An his boiler nah falls to decay. +Maybe he'd his faults, but he'd vartues as well, + An tho' dearly he loved a gooid spree; +If he did onny harm it wor done to hissel:-- + He wor allus a gooid friend to me. + +His heart it wor tender,--his purse it wor free, + To a friend or a stranger i' need; +An noa matter ha humble or poor they might be, + At his booard they wor welcome to feed. +Wi' his pipe an his glass bi his foirside he'd sit, + Yet some fowk wi' him couldn't agree, +An tho' monny's the time 'at we've differed a bit, + He wor allus a gooid friend to me. + +His word wor his bond, for he hated a lie, + An sickophants doubly despised; +He wor ne'er know to cringe to a rich fly-bi-sky, + It wor worth an net wealth 'at he prized. +Aw shall ne'er meet another soa honest an true, + As aw write ther's a tear i' mi ee; +Nah he's gooan to his rest, an aw'll give him his due,-- + He wor allus a gooid friend to me. + + + +A Pair o' Black Een. + + +One neet as aw trudged throo mi wark, + Thinks aw, nah mi labor is done, +Aw feel just inclined for a lark, + For its long sin aw had onny fun. + +An ov coorse awd mi wife i' mi mind, + Shoo's a hot en, but then, what bi that! +For when on a spree aw'm inclined, + Aw could nivver get on baght awr Mat. + +Sally Slut wor a croney o' hers, + A bonny an warm-hearted lass, +An shoo'd latly been wed to a chap, + 'At could booast booath some brains an some brass. + +But someha, awr Mat seemed to think, + 'At Sally, soa hansum an trim; +For a partner throo life owt to luk + Wi' somdy mich better nor him. + +An shoo profiside trubble an care, + Wor i' stoor at noa far distant day, +An shoo muttered "poor Sal, aw declare, + Tha's thrown thisen reight cleean away." + +As sooin as aw gate hold o'th' sneck, + Aw walked in wi' a sorrowful face, +Then aw sank like a hawf empty seck + Into th' furst seeat aw coom to i'th' place. + +"Gooid gracious, alive! What's to do?" + Says Matty, "whativver's amiss?" +"A'a, lass! tha'll nooan think at its true,-- + It's a tarrible come-off is this," + +"Tha knows Sally Slut,--A'a dear me! + To-day as aw went across th' green, +Aw met her,--an what should aw see,-- + Why, shoo'd getten a pair o' black een," + +"That scamp! But aw'll sattle wi' him!" + Says Mat, as shoo threw on her shawl,-- +"Aw warned her agean weddin Tim,-- + But aw'll let him see;--sharply an all!" + +Off shoo flew an left me bi misen, + An aw swoller'd mi teah in a sniff, +An aw crept up to bed, thear an then,-- + For aw knew shoo'd come back in a tiff. + +An shoo did, in a few minnits mooar; + An worn't shoo mad? nivver fear! +An th' laader aw reckoned to snooar, + An th' laader shoo skriked i' mi ear. + +Tha thowt tha'd put me in a stew,-- + But aw treeat sich like conduct wi' scorn! +But tha didn't fooil me, for aw knew, + Shoo'd black een ivver sin shoo wor born. + +Shoo can booast ov her een,--that shoo can! + But shoo's nowt at aw envy,--net me! +Unless it's her bavin a man, + Asteead ov a hawbuck like thee. + + + +A Screw Lawse. + + +When rich fowk are feastin, an poor fowk are grooanin, + Ther's summat 'at connot be reight. +Wol one lot are cheerin, another lot's mooanin + For want ov sufficient to ait. +Ther must be a screw lawse i'th' social machine, + An if left to goa on varry long, +Ther'll as sewer be a smash as befoortime ther's been, + When gross wrangs ov thooas waik mak em strong. +Discontent may long smolder, but aght it'll burst, + In a flame 'at ther efforts will mock; +An they'll leearn when too lat, 'at they've met the just fate, + Ov thooas who rob th' poor o' ther jock. + + + +A Sad Mishap. + + +"Come, John lad, tell me what's to do, + Tha luks soa glum an sad; +Is it becoss tha'rt short o' brass? + Or are ta poorly, lad? +Has sombdy been findin fault, + Wi' owt tha's sed or done? +Or are ta bothered wi' thi loom, + Wi' th' warp tha's just begun? + +Whativver 'tis, lad, let me know,-- + Aw'll help thi if aw can; +Sometimes a woman's ready wit + Is useful to a man. +Tha allus let me share thi joys,-- + Let's share when grief prevails; +Tha knows tha sed aw should, John, + I'th' front o'th' alter rails. + +We've just been wed a year, lad, + Come Sundy next but three; +But if tha sulks an willn't spaik, + Aw'st think tha'rt stawld o' me. +Aw've done mi best aw'm sewer, John, + To be a wife to thee; +Come tell me what's to do, John, + Wol aw caar o' thi knee." + + ---------- + +"Aw've brass enuff to pay mi way,-- + Aw'm hearty as needs be;-- +Ther's noabdy been findin fault, + An aw'm nooan stawl'd o' thee. +But aw'm soa mad aw connot bide,-- + For commin hooam to-neet, +Mi pipe slipt throo between mi teeth, + An smashed to bits i'th' street. +Aw cant think what aw could be doin, + To let the blam'd thing drop! +An a'a! it wor a beauty, + An colored reight to th' top." + + + +If. + + +Dear Jenny, if fortun should favour mi lot, + Mi own bonny wife tha shall be; +For trubbles an worries we'll care net a jot, + For we'll rout 'em wi' frolic an glee. + +We'll have a snug cot wi' a garden at th' back, + An aw'll fix peearks i'th' cellar for hens; +Then a fresh egg for braikfast tha nivver need lack, + When thi fancy to sich a thing tends. + +Some cheers an a table, an two-o'-three pans, + Some pots an a kettle for tea; +A bed an a creddle an smart kist o' drawers, + An a rockin-cheer, lass,--that's for thee. + +Some books, an some picters to hing up o'th' wall, + To mak th' place luk nobby an neat; +An a rug up o'th' harstun to keep thi tooas warm, + An some slippers to put on thi feet. + +An when Sundy comes,--off to th' chapel or church, + An when we get back we'll prepare, +Some sooart ov a meal,--tho its hooamly an rough, + If its whooalsum we nivver need care. + +If we're blest wi' a bairn, we mun ne'er be put aght, + If it shows us its tempers an tiffs; +Soa Jenny, have patience, for th' change i' thi state, + Depends varry mich on theas "Ifs." + + + +A True Tale. + + +Ther's a Squire lives at th' Hall 'at's lukt up to, + As if he wor ommost a god. +He's hansum, he's rich, an he's clivver, + An fowk's praad if he gives 'em a nod. +He keeps carriages, horses an dogs, + For spooartin, or fancy, or labor, +He's a pew set apart in a church, + An he's reckoned a varry gooid naybor. + +Ther's a woman bedrabbled an weet, + Crouched daan in a doorhoil to rest; +Her een strangely breet,--her face like a sheet, + An her long hair hings ovver her breast. +Want's shrivell'd her body to nowt, + An vice has set th' stamp on her face; +An her heart's grown soa callous an hard, + 'At it connot be touched wi' disgrace. + +Ther's a child bundled up i' some rags, + 'At's whinin its poor life away; +Neglected an starvin on th' flags, + On this wild, cold an dree winter's day. +An its father is dinin at th' Hall, + An its mother is deein wi' th' cold, +Withaat even a morsel o' breead, + Yet its father is rollin i' gold. + +Ther's a grey heeaded man an his wife, + Who are bow'd daan wi' grief,--net wi' years:-- +Ivver mournin a dowter they've lost, + Ivver silently dryin ther tears. +Shoo wor th' hooap an pride o' ther life, + Till a Squire put strange thowts in her heead; +Then shoo fled an they ne'er saw her mooar, + Soa they mourn her as if shoo wor deead. + +Ther's One up aboon sees it all; + He values noa titles nor brass, +He cares noa mooar for a rich Squire, + Nor He does for a poor country lass, +His messengers now hover near, + Till that mother an child yield ther breath, +An th' Squire has noa longer a fear, + For his secret is lockt up in death. + + + +Peter's Prayer. + + +His face wor varry thin an pale, + His een wor strangely breet; +His old rags flapt i'th' wintry gale, + An shooless wor his feet. +His teeth they chattered in his heead, + His hands had lost ther use, +He humbly begg'd a bite o' breead, + But nobbut gate abuse. + +A curse wor tremblin on his tongue, + But with a mad despair, +He curbed it wi' an effort strong, + An changed it for a prayer. +"Oh, God!" he cried, "spare,--spare aw pray! + Have mercy an forgive; +Befooar too lat, show me some way + My wife an bairns can live!" + +"Aw read i'th' papers ivvery day, + Ov hundreds,--thaasands spent +For shot an shell, an things to swell + This nation's armament. +Into fowk's hearts, oh, God! instil + A love ov peace, an then, +Maybe we'st have some better times, + An men can help thersen. + +Aw nobbut want a chonce to live, + One cannot wish for less; +Wars fill this world wi' misery,-- + Peace gives us happiness. +If monarchs dooant get quite as mich, + Ther joys need not decrease;-- +Pray think o'th' poor as weel as th' rich;-- + We've but one soul apiece." + + + +Mak th' Best Ont. + + +Mak th' best on't,--mak th' best on't,--tho' th' job be a bad en, + God bless mi life! childer, its useless to freeat! +This world's reight enuff, but it wod be a sad en, + If we all started rooarin for what we cant get. + +Who knows but what th' things we mooast wish for an covet, + Are th' varry warst things we could ivver possess; +Let's shak hands wi' awr luck, an try soa to love it, + 'At noa joy ov awr life shall be made onny less. + +Mak th' best on't,--mak th' best on't,--ne'er heed if yor naybor + Can live withaat workin wol yo have to slave; +Ther's nowt sweetens life like some honest hard labor, + An it's th' battles yo feight 'at proves yo are brave. + +Ne'er heed if grim poverty pays yo a visit, + 'Twill nivver stop long if yo show a bold front; +It's noa sin to be poor, if yo cant help it,--is it? + Soa keep up yor pecker an gie sorrow a shunt. + +Mak th' best on't,--mak th' best on't,--if Fortune should favor, + An a big share o' blessins pour into yor lap, +'Twill give to yor pleasures a mich better flavor, + If yo share yor gooid luck wi' some other poor chap. + +Depend on't, ther's nowt tends to mak life as jolly, + As just to mak th' best ov what falls to yor lot; +For freeatin at best is a waste an a folly, + An it nivver will help to mend matters a jot. + + + +On Strike. + + +He wandered slipshod through the street, + His clothes had many a rent; +His shoes seemed dropping from his feet, + His eyes were downward bent. +His face was sallow, pale and thin, + His beard neglected grew, +Upon his once close shaven chin, + Like bristles sticking through. + +I'd known him in much better state, + As "old hard-working Mike," +I asked, would he the cause relate? + Said he, "Awm aght on th' strike. +Yo're capt, noa daat, to see me thus, + Aw'm shamed to meet a friend; +It's varry hard on th' mooast on us, + We wish 't wor at an end. + +Aw cannot spend mi time i'th' haase, + An see mi childer pine; +They havn't what'll feed a maase, + But that's noa fault o' mine. +Th' wife's varry nearly brokken daan,-- + Shoo addles all we get, +Wol aw goa skulkin all throo th' taan, + I' sorrow, rags an debt. + +But then yo know it has to be, + Th' committee tells us that; +They owt to know,--but as for me, + Aw find it's hard,--that's flat. +They say 'at th' miaisters suffer mooar + Nor we can ivver guess;-- +But th' sufferin they may endure, + Maks mine noa morsel less. + +But then th' committee says it's reight; + Soa aw mun rest content, +An we mun still, goa on wi' th' feight, + What comes o' jock or rent. +Aw dooant like to desart mi mates, + But one thing aw dooant like; +When th' table shows but empty plates + It's hard to be on th' strike. + +Gooid day,--for cake awst ha to fend, + Them childer's maaths to fill; +Th' committee say th' strike sooin will end; + Aw hooap to God it will." + + + +Be Happy. + + +Some fowk ivverlastinly grummel, + At th' world an at th' fowk ther is in it; +If across owt 'at's pleasant they stummel, + They try to pick faults in a minnit. + +We all have a strinklin o' care, + An they're lucky 'at ne'er meet a trubble, +But aw think its unkind, an unfair, + To mak ivvery misfortun seem double. + +Some grummel if th' sun doesn't shine,-- + If it does they find cause for complainin; +Discontented when th' weather wor fine, + They start findin fault if its rainin. + +Aw hate sich dissatisfied men, + An fowk 'at's detarmined to do soa, +Aw'd mak 'em goa live bi thersen, + Aght o'th' world,--like a Robinson Crusoe. + +To mak th' pleasures surraandin us less, + Ivvery reight-minded man must think sinful; +When ther's soa mich to cheer us an bless, + Ov happiness let's have a skinful. + +Aw truly mooast envy that man, + Who's gladly devotin his leisure, +To mak th' world as breet as he can, + An add to its stock ov pure pleasure. + +It's true ther's hard wark to be done, + An mooast on us drop in to share it; +But if sprinkled wi' innocent fun, + Why, we're far better able to bear it. + +May we live long surraanded wi' friends, + To enjoy what is healthful an pure; +An at last when this pilgrimage ends, + We shall nivver regret it aw'm sure. + + + +Its True. + + +Ther's things i'plenty aw despise;-- + False pride an wild ambition; +Tho' ivvery man should strive to rise, + An better his condition. +Aw hate a meean an grovlin soul, + I' breast ov peer or ploughman, +But what aw hate the mooast ov all, + Is th' chap 'at strikes a woman. + + For let ther faults be what they may, + He proves 'at he's a low man, + Who lifts his hand bi neet or day, + An strikes a helpless woman. + +Ther taunts may oft be hard to bide,-- + Ther tempers may be fiery, +But passions even dwell inside + The convent an the priory. +An all should think where'er we dwell, + Greek, Saxon, Gaul or Roman; +We're net sich perfect things ussel, + As to despise a woman. + + For let ther faults, &c. + +It's true old Eve first made a slip, + An fill'd this world wi' bother; +But Adam had to bite his lip,-- + He couldn't get another. +An tho' at th' present day they swarm, + That chap proves his own foeman, +Who doesn't tak his strong reight arm, + An twine it raand a woman. + + For let ther faults, &c. + +A chap may booast he's number one, + An lord it o'er creation; +May spaat an praich, but when he's done, + He'll find his proper station. +He may be fast when at his best, + But age maks him a slow man, +An as he sinks, he's fain to rest, + On some kind-hearted woman. + + For let ther faults, &c. + +Aw wodn't gie a pinch o' salt, + For that cold-hearted duffer, +Who glories o'er a woman's fault, + An helps to mak her suffer. +Ther's net a cock e'er flapt a wing, + 'At had th' same reight to crow, man; +As th' chap who wi' a weddin ring, + Has made a happy woman. + + Then let ther faults be what they will, + Ther net for me to show, man; + But if yo seek for comfort, still, + Yo'll find it in a woman. + + + +Natty Nancy. + + +"Mooar fowk get wed nor what do weel," + A've heeard mi mother say; +But mooast young lads an lasses too, + Think just th' contrary way. +An lasses mooar nor lads it seems, + To wed seem nivver flaid; +For nowt they seem to dreead as mich + As deein an old maid. +But oft for single life they sigh, + An net withaat a cause, +When wi' ther tongue they've teed a knot, + Ther teeth's too waik to lawse. +Days arn't allus weddin days, + They leearn that to ther sorrow, +When panics come an th' brass gets done, + An they've to try to borrow. +When th' chap at th' strap shop's lukkin glum, + An hardly seems to know yo; +An gooas on sarvin other fowk + As if he nivver saw yo. +An when yo're fain to pile up th' foir, + Wi' bits o' cowks an cinders;-- +When poverty says, "here' aw've come," + Love hooks it aght o'th' winders. +Friends yo once had are far too thrang + To ax yo to yer drinkin; +They happen dunnot meean owt wrang,-- + But one cannot help for thinkin. +An when yo're lukkin seedy like, + Wi' patched an tattered clooas; +Yo'll find when yer coit elbows gape, + Sich friends oft shut ther doors. +Ther are poor fowk 'at's happier far, + Nor rich ens,--ther's noa daat on't, +For brass cannot mak happiness, + But sewerly it's a pairt on't. +Aw'll tell yo ov a tale aw heeard,-- + It's one 'at tuk mi fancy,-- +Abaat a young chap an his wife, + They called her Natty Nancy. +They called her Natty, yo mun know + Becoss shoo wor soa clivver, +At darnin, cookin, weshin clooas + Or onny job whativver. +Well, they began as monny do + 'At arn't blest wi' riches; +He hugg'd all th' fortun he possessed + I'th' pocket ov his britches. +It worn't mich, it wodn't raich + Aboon a two-o'-three shillin; +But they wor full ov hooap an health, + An they wor strong an willin. +An fowk wor capt to see ha sooin + Ther little cot grew cooasy; +Shoo'd allus summat cheerful like, + If't nobbut wor a pooasy. +Soa time slipt on, an all went weel + When Dick sed, "Natty, lass, +A-latly aw've begun to feel + Aw'st like a bigger haase. +For when aw tuk this cot for thee, + We'd nubdy but ussen; +But sin that lad wor born ther's three, + An ther'll sooin be four, an then?" +"Why, Dick," shoo sed, "just suit thisen, + Here's raam enuff for me; +But if tha'rt anxious for a change, + Aw'm willin to agree." +Soa sooin they tuk a bigger haase, + They tew'd throo morn to neet, +To mak it smart, an varry sooin + 'Twor th' nicest haase i'th' street. +An when a little lass wor born + They thowt ther pleasur double; +But Dick, alas! had nah to taste + A little bit o' trubble. +For times wer growin varry hard, + An wark kept gettin slacker; +He'd furst to goa withaat his ale, + An then to stop his bacca. +But even that did net suffice + To keep want at a distance, +An they'd noa whear i'th' world to turn, + To luk for some assistance. +An monny a time he left his meal + Untouched, tho' ommost pinin; +An trail'd abaat, i' hooaps to find + Some breeter fortun shinin. +For long he sowt, but sowt in vain, + Although his heart wor willin +To turn or twist a hundred ways, + To get an honest shillin. +One day his wife coom back throo th' shop, + Her heart seem'd ommost brustin; +Shoo sob'd, "Oh, Dick,--what mun we do, + Th' shop keeper's stall'd o' trustin. +We've nowt to ait, lad, left i'th' haase,-- + Aw know th' fault isn't thine, +But th' childer's bellies mun be fill'd + Tho' thee an me's to pine." +Dick seized his hat an aght o'th' door + He flew like somdy mad, +Detarmined 'at he'd get some brass, + If brass wor to be had. +He furst tried them he thowt his friends, + An tell'd his touchin stooary; +They button'd up ther pockets + As they sed, "We're varry sooary." +They tell'd him to apply to th' taan, + Or sell his goods an chattels; +Dick felt at last 'at he'd to feight + One o' life's hardest battles. +For when he'd tried 'em ivvery one + He fan aght to his sorrow, +'At fowk wi' brass have far mooar friends, + Nor them 'at wants to borrow. +Wi' empty hands, hooamwards he went, + An thear on th' doorstep gleamin, +Wor ligg'd a shillin, raand an white;-- + He thowt he must be dreamin. +He rub'd his een, an eyed it o'er, + A-feeard lest it should vanish, +He sed, "some angel's come aw'm sewer, + Awr misery to banish." +He pickt it up an lifted th' sneck, + Then gently oppen'd th' door, +An thear wor Nancy an his bairns, + All huddled up o'th' flooar. +"Cheer up!" he sed, "gooid luck's begun, + Here,--tak this brass an spend it; +It isn't mine, lass, but aw'm sewer + Aw think the Lord has sent it." +A'a! ha her heart jumpt up wi' joy! + Shoo felt leet as a feather; +An off shoo went an bowt some stuff, + Then they set daan together. +Befooar they'd weel begun, at th' door, + They heeard a gentle tappin, +"Goa Dick," shoo sed, "luk sharp,--awm sewer + Aw heead sombody rappin." +It wor a poor old beggar man + Who ax'd for charity; +"Come in!" sed Dick, "it's borrow'd stuff, + But tha shall share wi' me. +Soa set thi jaws a waggin lad,-- + It's whooalsum, nivver heed it, +An if tha ivver has a chonce, + Pay back to them 'at need it." +Wi' th' best they had th' old chap wor plied, + An but few words wor spokken, +Till th' old chap pushed his plate aside, + An silence then wor brokken. +"Aw'm varry old an worn," he sed, + This life's soa full o' cares, +Yet have aw sometimes entertained + An angel unawares. +Ther's One aboon reads ivvery heart, + An them 'at he finds true, +Altho' He tries 'em sooar,--at last, + He minds to pool 'em throo. +Then nivver let yor faith grow dim, + Altho yo've hard to feight; +Just let yer trust all rest o' Him, + An He'll put all things straight, +He quietly sydled aght o'th' door, + An when they lukt araand, +A purse they'd nivver seen befooar + Wor liggin up o'th' graand. +Dick pickt it up--what could it be? + He hardly dar to fancy;-- +"Why, its addressed to thee an me! + To Dick an Natty Nancy!" + + ---------- + +They oppened it wi' tremblin hands, + An when they saw the treasure; +'Twor hard to say which filled 'em mooast, + Astonishment or pleasur. +Ther wor a letter for 'em too, + An this wor ha it ended,-- +"You once helped me, may this help you,-- + From one you once befriended," + + --------- + +They nivver faand aght who he wor, + Altho' they spared noa labor; +But for his sake they ne'er refuse + To help ther needy naybor. + + + + + Fugitive poems. + + By John Hartley. + + Not written in the Yorkshire Dialect. + + + +Angels of Sunderland. In Memoriam, June 16th, 1893. + + + On the sixteenth of June, eighteen eighty-three, + The children of Sunderland hastened to see, + Strange wonders performed by a mystic man, + Believing,--as only young children can. +And merry groups chattered, as hand in hand, +They careered through the streets of Sunderland. + + In holiday dress, and with faces clean, + And hearts as light as the lightest, I ween;-- + The hall was soon crowded, and wondering eyes, + Expressed their delight at each fresh surprise; +The sight of their bright, eager faces was grand,-- +Such a mass of fair blossoms of Sunderland. + + With wonder and laughter the moments fly, + And the wizard at last bade them all good-bye, + But not till he promised that each one there, + In his magical fortune should have a share;-- +Such a wonderful man with such liberal hand, +Had never before been in Sunderland. + + They danced, and they shouted, and full of glee, + They rushed to find out what these presents could be, + And the sea of young faces was borne along, + Until checked by a barrier, stout and strong; +And then the bright current was brought to a stand, +And a heart piercing shriek rang through Sunderland. + + Then the hearts of the little ones filled with fear, + With a sickening sense of a danger near; + And with frantic efforts they strove to flee, + To the homes where they knew there would safety be; +And deaf alike to request or command, +Rushed to death,--the sweet flowers of Sunderland. + + Swift flew the alarm from street to street, + And swiftly responded the hurrying feet. + Fathers and mothers with grief gone wild, + Cried as they ran, "Oh, my child! my child!" +Women half fainting, and men all unmanned,-- +'Twas a sad, sad day for Sunderland. + + Pen cannot tell what keen anguish wrung, + Their bleeding hearts, as the fair and young, + Were dragged from the struggling, groaning mass, + Mangled, disfigured and dead, Alas! +And offers of help came from every hand, +For they were the children of Sunderland. + + Quickly and tenderly, one by one, + They were brought to light, till the task was done; + The wounded were tended with kindness and skill; + Side by side lay the dead,--all so ghastly and still;-- +What a terrible tale told that silent band, +As the Sabbath sun rose over Sunderland. + + In the promise of beauty and strength cut down, + Two hundred spirits from earth had flown; + Two hundred frail caskets that love could not save, + Awaiting their last earthly home in the grave; +And a crowd of white angels expectant stand, +To welcome the angels from Sunderland. + + Woe in the cottage, and woe in the hall;-- + Woe in the hearts of the great and the small;-- + Woe in the streets,--in the houses of prayer; + Woe had its dwelling place everywhere. +Suffering and sorrow on every hand,-- +Woe-woe-woe throughout Sunderland. + + Who can give comfort in grief such as this? + Man's arm is helpless,--no power is his. + There is but One unto whom we can flee, + One who in mercy cries, "Come unto me." +One who in pity outstretches His hand, +To the heart-broken mourners of Sunderland. + + Sad will the homes be for many a day, + Where the light of the household has been snatched away; + But through the dull cloud of our sorrow and pain, + Shines the hope that at last we may meet them again; +For on the bright shores of the 'better land,' +Are gathered the treasures of Sunderland. + + + +Trusting Still. + + +When shall we meet again? + One more year passed; +One more of grief and pain;-- + Maybe the last. +Are the years sending us + Farther apart? +Or love still blending us + Heart into heart? +Do love's fond memories + Brighten the way, +Or faith's fell enemies + Darken thy day? +Oh! could the word unkind + Be recalled now, +Or in the years behind + Buried lie low, +How would my heart rejoice + As round it fell, +Sweet cadence of thy voice, + Still loved so well. +Sometimes when sad it seems + Whisperings say: +"Cherish thy baseless dreams, + Yet whilst thou may, +Try not to pierce the veil, + Lest thou should'st see, +Only a dark'ning vale + Stretching for thee." +But Hope's mist-shrouded sun + Once more breaks out, +Chasing the shadows dim, + Heavy with doubt. +And far ahead I see, + Two rays entwine; +One faint, as soul of me, + One bright like thine. +And in that welcome sign, + Clearly I view, +Proof of this trust of mine,-- + Thou art still true. + + + +Shiver the Goblet. + + +Shiver the goblet and scatter the wine! + Tempt me no more with the sight! +I care not though brightly as ruby it shine, + Like a serpent I know it will bite. +Give me the clustering fruit of the vine,-- + Heap up my dish if you will,-- +But banish the poison that lurks in the wine, + That dulls reason and fetters the will. + +Oft has it lured me to deeds I detest,-- + Filled me with passions debased; +Robbed me of all that was dearest and best, + And left scars that can ne'er be effaced. +Oh! that the generous rich would but think, + As they scatter their wealth far and wide, +Of the evil that lives in the ocean of drink, + Of the thousands that sink in its tide. + +They give of their substance to help the poor wretch, + The victim of custom and laws; +But never attempt the strong arm to outstretch, + To try to abolish the cause. +The preacher as well may his eloquence spare, + Nor his tales of "glad tidings" need tell, +If by precepts he urge them for heaven to prepare, + Whilst his practice leads downward to hell. + +Erect new asylums and hospitals raise,-- + Build prisons for creatures of sin;-- +Can these be a means to improve the world's ways? + Or one soul from destruction e'er win? +No!--License the cause and encourage the sale + Of the evil one's strongest ally, +And in vain then lament that the curse should prevail,-- + And in vain o'er the fallen ones sigh. + +Strike the black blot from the laws of the land! + And take the temptation away; +Then give to the struggling and weak one's a hand, + To pilot them on the safe way. +Can brewers, distillers, or traffickers pray + For the blessing of God, on the seed +Which they sow for the harvest of men gone astray? + Of ruin, the fruit of their greed? + + +No bonds can be forged the drink-demon to bind, + That will hinder its power for ill; +For a way to work mischief it surely will find, + Let us watch and contrive as we will. +Then drive out the monster! The plague-breathing pest; + And so long as our bodies have breath, +Let us fight the good fight, never stopping for rest, + Till at last we rejoice o'er its death. + + + +Little Sunshine. + + +Winsome, wee and witty, + Like a little fay, +Carolling her ditty + All the livelong day, +Saucy as a sparrow + In the summer glade, +Flitting o'er the meadow + Came the little maid. +A youth big and burly, + Loitered near the stile, +He had risen early, + Just to win her smile. +And she came towards him + Trying to look grave, +But she couldn't do it, + Not her life to save. +For the fun within her, + Well'd out from her eyes, +And the tell-tale blushes + To her brow would rise. +Then he gave her greeting, + And with bashful bow, +Said in tones entreating, + "Darling tell me now, +You are all the sunshine, + This world holds for me; +Be my little valentine, + I have come for thee." +But she only tittered + When he told his love, +And the gay birds twittered + On the boughs above; +He continued pleading, + Calling her his sun-- +Said his heart was bleeding,-- + Which seemed famous fun. +Then he turned to leave her. + But she caught his hand, +And its gentle pressure + Made him understand, +That in spite of teasing, + He her heart had won, +And through life hereafter, + She would be his sun. + + ---------- + +Now they have been married + Twenty years or more, +But she's just as wilful + As she was before. +And she's just as winsome + In his eyes to-day, +As when first be met her, + Mischievous and gay. +Will the years ne'er tame her? + Will she ne'er grow old? +Does the grave man blame her? + Does he never scold? +Does he never weary + Of her ready tongue? +Does he love her dearly + As when he was young? +Yes--she was the sunshine + Of his youthful day, +And her light laugh cheers him + Now he's growing gray. +Happy little woman, + That time cannot tame; +Happy sober husband, + Loving still the same. +Happy in her lightness + When life's morn was bright, +Happy in her brightness + As draws on the night. + + + +Passing Events. + + +Passing events,--tell, what are they I pray? +Are they some novelty?--Nay, nay, nay! +Ever since the world its course began, +Since the breath of life was breathed into man, +Still rolling on with the wane of time, +Through every nation, in every clime; +In every spot where man has his home, +Ever they long for events to come. + +Hours or days or years it may be, +Before hopes realization they see; +And no sooner it comes than it hastes away, +And others rush after no longer to stay. +And there scarcely is time to know its in sight, +E'er its found to be leaving with marvellous flight, +And what had been longed for with eager intent, +Is chronicled but as a passing event. + +Hope's joys are uncertain;--anxiety rules, +Expectancy's paradise, peopled by fools; +And the present has oft so much bustle and care, +That the joys spread around we have no time to share. +He is surer of peace who leaves future to fate, +And the present joy snatches before it's too late; +But he's safest by far, who in mem'ry holds fast, +The sweet tastes and joys of events that are past. + + + +Those Days have Gone. + + +Those days have gone, those happy days, + When we two loved to roam, +Beside the rivulet that strays, + Near by my rustic home. +Yes, they have fled, and in the past, + We've left them far behind, +Yet dear I hold, those days of old, + When you were true and kind. + +You dreamed not then of wealth or fame, + The world was bright and fair, +I seldom knew a grief or game, + That you, too, did not share. +And though I mourn my hapless fate, + In mem'ry's store I find, +And dearly hold those days of old, + When you were true and kind. + +Say, can the wealth you now possess, + Such happiness procure, +As did our youthful pleasures bless, + When both our hearts were pure? +No,--and though wandering apart, + I strive to be resigned; +And dearer hold those days of old, + When you were true and kind. + +And if your thoughts should turn to me, + With one pang of regret, +Know that this heart, still beats for thee, + And never will forget; +Those tender links of long ago + Are round my heart entwined, +And dear I hold those days of old, + When you were true and kind. + + + +I'd a Dream. + + +I'd a dream last night of my boyhood's days, + And the scenes where my youth was spent; +And I roamed the old woods where the squirrel plays, + Full of frolicsome merriment. +And I walked by the brook, and its silvery tone, + Seemed to soothe me again as of yore; +And I stood by the cottage with moss overgrown + And the woodbine that trailed round the door. + +No change could I see in the garden plot, + The flowers bloomed brightly around, +And one little bed of forget-me-not + In its own little corner I found. +The sky had a home-look, the breeze seemed to sigh, + In the strain I remembered so well, +And the little brown sparrows looked cunning and shy, + As though anxious some story to tell. + +But as quietness reigned and a loneliness fell, + O'er the place that had once been so gay; +Its sunlight had saddened since I bade farewell, + And left it for lands far away. +The door stood ajar and I sought for a face, + Of the dear ones I longed so to see; +But others I knew not were now in the place, + And their presence was painful to me. + +A pang of remorse seemed to shoot through my heart, + As I left with a sorrowing tread, +From all the familiar objects to part; + For I knew that the loved ones were dead. +The home once my own, now knows me no more, + The treasures that bound me all gone, +And I woke with cheeks tear-stained, and heart sadly sore, + To find that a home I had none. + + + +To my Harp. + + +Wake up my harp! thy strings begin to rust! + Has the soul fled that once within thee dwelt? +Idle so long, shake off that coat of dust! + Are there no souls to cheer, no hearts to melt? +Are there no victims under tyrants' yoke, + Whose wrongs thy stirring music should proclaim? +Or have the fetters of mankind been broke? + Or are there none deserving songs of fame? + +Awake! awake! thy slumber has been long! + And let thy chords once more arouse the heart; +And teach us in thy most impassioned song, + How in our sphere we best may play our part. +Tell the down-trodden, who with daily toil, + Wear out their lives, another's greed to fill; +That they have rights and interests in the soil, + And they can win them if they have the will. + +Tell the high-born that chance of birth ne'er gave + To them a right to carve another's fate; +Nor yet to make the humbler born a slave, + Whose heart with goodness may be doubly great. +Tell the hard-handed poor, yet honest man, + That though through roughest ways of life he plod, +Nature hath placed upon his birth no ban,-- + All men are equal in the sight of God. + +And yet a softer, pitying strain let pour, + To soothe the anguish of the troubled soul, +And fill the heart bereaved, with hope once more, + And from the brow the heavy grief-cloud roll. +Cheer on the brave who struggle in the fight,-- + And warn oppression of the gathering storm, +And drag the deeds of false ones to the light,-- + And herald in the day of true reform. + +Nor leave the gentler, loving themes, unsung, + Compassionate the maiden's tender woes, +Revive the faint who are with fears unstrung, + And solace them who writhe in suffering's throes. +Awake! awake! there's need enough of thee, + Nor let again such sloth enchain thy tongue, +And may thy constant effort henceforth be, + To plant the right, and to uproot the wrong. + + + +Backward Turn, Oh! Recollection. + + +Backward turn, oh! recollection! + Far, far back to childhoods' days; +To those treasures of affection, + 'Round which loving memory plays +Show to me the loving faces + Of my parents, now no more,-- +Fill again the vacant places + With the images of yore. + +Conjure up the home where comfort + Seemed to make its cosy nest; +Where the stranger's only passport, + Was the need of food and rest. +Show the schoolhouse where with others, + I engaged in mental strife, +And the playground, where as brothers + Running, jumping, full of life. + +Now I see the lovely maiden, + That my young heart captive led; +Like a sylph, with gold curls laden, + And her lips of cherry red. +Now fond voices seem to echo, + Tones as when I heard them last; +And my heart sighs sadly, Heigh, ho! + For the joys for ever past. + +From the past back to the present, + Come, ye wandering thoughts again; +Memories however pleasant, + Will not rid to-day of pain, +Now we live, the past is buried,-- + We are midway in life's stream; +Onward, onward! ever hurried,-- + And the futures but a dream. + + + +Alice. + + +Dear little Alice lay dying;-- + I see her as if 'twas to-day, +And we stood round her snowy bed, crying, + And watching her life ebb away. + +'Twas a beautiful day in the spring, + The sun shone out warmly and clear; +And the wee birds, their love songs to sing + Came and perched on the trees that grew near. + +In the distance, the glistening sea, + Could be heard in a deep solemn tone, +As if murmuring in sad sympathy, + For our griefs and our hopes that had flown. + +The windows, wide open, allowed + The soft wind to fan her white cheek, +As with uncovered heads, mutely bowed, + We stood watching, not daring to speak. + +We were only her playmates,--no tie + Of relationship drew us that way, +We'd been told that dear Alice must die, + And she'd begg'd she might see us that day. + +We were all full of sorrow, and tears + We all shed,--but not one showed surprise; +Of her future we harboured no fears, + For we knew she was fit for the skies. + +Ever gentle and kind as a dove, + To each one she knew she had been; +She had ruled her dominion by love, + And we all paid her homage as Queen. + +Her strange beauty, now, as I look back, + I can see as I ne'er saw it then; +But words to describe it I lack, + It could never be told by a pen. + +Half asleep, half awake, as she lay, + With her golden curls round her pale face; +A smile round her lips 'gan to play, + And her eyes gazed intently on space. + +With an effort she half raised her head, + And looked lovingly round us on all, +Then she motioned us nearer the bed; + And we silently answered her call. + +Then she put out her tiny white hand, + The friend nearest her took it in his; +And so faintly she whispered "Good-bye," + As he printed upon it a kiss. + +One by one, boy and girl, did the same, + And she bade them 'farewell' as they passed +Calling everyone by their name, + 'Till it came to my turn;--I was last, + +"Good-bye, Harry," she breathed very low, + And her eyes to my soul seemed to speak; +And she strove not to let my hand go, + Till I stooped down and kissed her pale cheek. + +Then she wearily laid down her head, + And she closed her blue eyes with a sigh;-- +"Don't forget me, dear Harry, when dead, + But meet me in Heaven by-and-bye." + +And that whisper I never forgot, + And her hand's dying clasp I feel still; +For I swore, that whatever my lot, + I'd be true to that child,--and I will. + +It may be a foolish conceit, + But it oft is a solace for me, +To think, when life's troubles I meet, + There's an angel in Heaven cares for me. + +Friends deplore my lone bachelor state, + Some may pity, and others deride; +But they know not for Alice I wait, + Who took with her my heart when she died. + + + +Looking Back. + + +I've been sitting reviewing the past, dear wife, + From the time when a toddling child,-- +Through my boyish days with their joys and strife,-- + Through my youth with its passions wild. +Through my manhood, with all its triumph and fret, + To the present so tranquil and free; +And the years of the past that I most regret, + Are the years that I passed without thee. + +It was best we should meet as we did, dear wife,-- + It was best we had trouble to face; +For it bound us more closely together through life, + And it nerved us for running the race. +We are nearing the end where the goal is set, + And we fear not our destiny, +And the only years that I now regret, + Are the years that I passed without thee. + +'Twas thy beauty attracted my eye, dear wife, + But thy goodness that kept me true; +'Twas thy sympathy soothed me when cares were rife, + 'Twas thy smile gave me courage anew. +Thy bloom may be faded by time, but yet, + Thou hast still the same beauty to me, +And no part of my past do I now regret, + Save the years that I passed without thee. + +We have struggled and suffered our share, dear wife, + But our joys have been many and sweet; +And our trust in each other has taken from life, + The heartaches and pangs others meet. +I still bless the day, long ago, when we met, + And my prayer for the future shall be, +That when the call comes and thy life's sun has set, + I may never be parted from thee. + + + +I Know I Love Thee. + + +I shall never forget the day, Annie, + When I bid thee a fond adieu; +With a careless good bye I left thee, + For my cares and my fears were few. +True that thine eyes seemed brightest;-- + True that none had so fair a brow,-- +I _thought_ that I loved thee then, Annie, + But I _knew_ that I love thee now. + +I had neither wealth nor beauty, + Whilst thou owned of both a share, +I bad only a honest purpose + And the courage the Fates to dare. +To all others my heart preferred thee, + And 'twas hard to part I know; +For I _thought_ that I loved thee then, Annie, + But I _know_ that I love thee now. + +Oh! what would I give to-night, love, + Could I clasp thee once again, +To my heart that is aching with loving,-- + To my heart where my love does reign. +Could I hear thy voice making music, + So gentle, so sweet and so low, +I _thought_ that I loved thee then, Annie, + But I _know_ that I love thee now. + +I have won me wealth and honour,-- + I have earned a worldly regard, +But alas they afford me no pleasure, + Nor lighten my lot so hard. +Oh come for my bosom yearneth, + All its burden of love to bestow,-- +Once I _thought_ that I really loved thee, + But I _know_ that I love thee now. + +Canst thou ever forgive me the folly, + Of failing to capture the prize, +Of thy maiden heart, trustful and loving, + That shone thro' thy tear bedimmed eyes. +But I knew not until we had parted, + How fiercely love's embers could glow; +Or how _truly_ I loved thee then, Annie, + Or how _madly_ I'd love thee now. + + + +Bachelors Quest. + + +She may be dark or may be fair, + If beauty she possesses; +But she must have abundant hair-- + I doat on flowing tresses. +Her skin must be clear, soft and white + Her cheeks with health's tints glowing, +Her eyes beam with a liquid light,-- + Red lips her white teeth showing. +She must be graceful as a fawn, + With bosom gently swelling, +Her presence fresh as early dawn,-- + A heart for love to dwell in. +She must be trusting, yet aware + That flatterer's honey'd phrases +Are often but a wily snare, + To catch her in love's mazes. +Accomplishments she must possess, + These make life worth the having; +And taste, especially in dress + Yet still inclined to saving. +In cookery she must excel, + To this there's no exception, +And serve a frugal meal as well + As manage a reception. +Untidyness she must abhor, + In every household matter; +And resolutely close the door + To any gossip's chatter. +She must love children, for a home + Ne'er seems like home without 'em. +And women seldom care to roam, + Who love their babes about 'em, +Should she have wealth, she must not boast + Or tell of what she brought me; +Content that I should rule the roost,-- + (That's what my father taught me.) +If I can find some anxious maid + Who all these charms possesses, +I shall be tempted, I'm afraid, + To pay her my addresses. + + + +Waiting at the Gate. + + +Draw closer to my side to-night, + Dear wife, give me thy hand, +My heart is sad with memories + Which thou canst understand, +Its twenty years this very day, + I know thou minds it well, +Since o'er our happy wedded life + The heaviest trouble fell. + +We stood beside the little cot, + But not a word we said; +With breaking hearts we learned, alas, + Our little Claude was dead, +He was the last child born to us, + The loveliest,--the best, +I sometimes fear we loved him more + Than any of the rest. + +We tried to say "Thy will be done," + We strove to be resigned; +But all in vain, our loss had left + Too deep a wound behind. +I saw the tears roll down thy cheek, + And shared thy misery, +But could not speak a soothing word, + I could but grieve with thee. + +He looked so calm, so sweet, so fair + Why should we stand and weep? +Death had but paused a moment there, + And put our pet to sleep. +The weary hours crept sadly on, + Until the burial day; +Then in the deep, cold, gravel grave, + We saw him laid away. + +His little bed was taen apart, + His toys put out of sight; +His brother and his sister soon + Grew gay again and bright. +But we, dear wife, we ne'er threw off, + The sorrow o'er us cast; +And even yet, at times, we grieve, + Though twenty years have passed. + +We know he's in a better land, + A heaven where all is bliss; +Nor would we try if we'd the power + To bring him back to this. +Draw closer to my side, dear wife, + And wipe away that tear, +Heaven does not seem so far away, + I seem to feel him near. + +He'll come no more with us to dwell, + For our life's lamp burns dim; +But He who doeth all things well, + Will draw us up to Him. +Come closer, wife, let us not part, + We have not long to wait; +A something whispers to my heart, + "Claude's waiting at the Gate." + + + +Love. + + +Love--love--love--love,-- +A tiny hand in a tiny glove; +A witching smile that means,--well,--well, +Whether little or much its hard to tell. +A tiny foot and a springy tread, +Short curls running riot all over her head; +A waist that invites a fond embrace, +Yet by modesty girt seems a holy place; +Not a place where an arm should be idly thrown, +But should gently rest, as would rest my own. +An angel whose wings are but hid from view, +Whose charms are many and faults so few, +As near perfection as mortal can be, +Is the one that I love and that loves but me. +They tell me that love is blind,--.oh, no! +They can never convince a lover so; +Love cannot be blind for it sees much more, +Then others have ever discovered before. +Oh, the restless night with its pleasing dreams, +Sweet visions through which her beauty beams; +The pleasant pains that find vent in sighs,-- +And the hopes of a earthly paradise +Where we shall dwell and heart to heart +In unison beat. Of the world a part +Yet so full of our love for each other that we +Shall sail all alone on life's troublesome sea, +In a charmed course, of perpetual calm, +Away from all danger, sccure from harm. + +Ah, yes,--such is love to the maiden and youth, +That have implicit trust in each others truth;-- +Such love was mine, but alas, alas! +The things I had hoped for ne'er came to pass. +But I thank the star of my destiny, +That guided a true plain woman to me; +That amid the bustle and worry and strife, +Has proved a good mother and faithful wife, +Though the fates did not grant me an angel to wed, +They gave me a woman for helpmate instead. + + + +Do your Best and Leave the Rest. + + +As through life you journey onward + Many a hill you'll have to climb; +Many a rough and dang'rous pathway, + You'll encounter time and time. +Now and then a gleam of sunshine, + Will bring hope to cheer your breast; +Then press onward,--ever trusting,-- + Do your best and leave the rest. + +Though your progress may be hindered, + By false friends or bitter foes; +And the goal for which you're striving, + Seems so far away,--who knows? +You may yet have strength to reach it, + E'er the sun sinks in the west; +Ever striving,--still undaunted;-- + Do your best and leave the rest. + +If you fail, as thousands must do, + You will still have cause for pride; +You will have advanced much further, + Than if you had never tried. +Never falter, but remember, + Life is not a foolish jest; +You all are in the fight to win it;-- + Do your best and leave the rest. + +If at last your strength shall fail you, + And your struggles have proved vain; +There is One who will sustain you;-- + Soothe your sorrow,--ease your pain, +He has seen your earnest striving, + And your efforts shall be blest; +For He knows, that you, though failing, + Did your best,--He'll do the rest. + + + +To my Daughter on her Birthday. + + +Darling child, to thee I owe, +More than others here will know; +Thou hast cheered my weary days, +With thy coy and winsome ways. +When my heart has been most sad, +Smile of thine has made me glad; +In return, I wish for thee, +Health and sweet felicity. +May thy future days be blest, +With all things the world deems best. +If perchance the day should come, +Thou does leave thy childhood's home; +Bound by earth's most sacred ties, +With responsibilities, +In another's life to share, +Wedded joys and worldly care; +May thy partner worthy prove,-- +Richest in thy constant love. +Strong in faith and honour, just,-- +With brave heart on which to trust. +One, to whom when troubles come, +And the days grow burdensome, +Thou canst fly, with confidence +In his love's plenipotence. +And if when some years have flown, +Sons and daughters of your own +Bless your union, may they be +Wellsprings of pure joy to thee. +And when age shall line thy brow, +And thy step is weak and slow,-- +And the end of life draws near +May'st thou meet it without fear; +Undismayed with earth's alarms,-- +Sleeping,--to wake in Jesus' arms. + + + +Remorse. + + +None ever knew I had wronged her, + That secret she kept to the end. +None knew that our ties had been stronger, + Than such as should bind friend to friend. +Her beauty and innocence gave her + Such charms as are lavished on few; +And vain was my earnest endeavour + To resist,--though I strove to be true. + +She had given her heart to my keeping,-- + 'Twas a treasure more precious than gold; +And I guarded it, waking or sleeping, + Lest a strange breath should make it grow cold. +And I longed to be tender, yet honest,-- + Alas! loved,--where to love was a sin,-- +And passion was deaf to the warning, + Of a still small voice crying within. + +I feasted my eyes on her beauty,-- + I ravished my ears with her voice,-- +And I felt as her bosom rose softly, + That my heart had at last found its choice. +'Twas a wild gust of passion swept o'er us,-- + Just a flash of tumultuous bliss;-- +Then life's sunlight all vanished before us, + And we stood by despair's dark abyss. + +'Tis past,--and the green grass grows over, + The grave that hides her and our shame; +None ever knew who was her lover, + For her lips never uttered his name. +But at night when the city is sleeping, + I steal with a tremulous tread, +And spend the dark solemn hours weeping, + O'er the grave of the deeply wronged dead. + + + +My Queen + + +Annie--Oh! what a weary while + It seems since that sad day; +When whispering a fond "good bye," + I tore myself away. +And yet, 'tis only two short years; + How has it seemed to thee? +To me, those lonesome years appear + Like an eternity. + +We loved,--Ah, me! how much we loved; + How happy passed the day +When pouring forth enraptured vows, + The charmed hours passed away. +In every leaf we beauty saw,-- + In every song and sound, +Some sweet entrancing melody, + To soothe our hearts we found. + +And now it haunts me as a dream,-- + A thing that could not be!-- +That one so pure and beautiful + Could ever care for me. +But I still have the nut-brown curl, + Which tells me it is true; +And in my fancy I can see + The brow where once it grew. + +Those eyes, whose pensive, loving light, + Did thrill me through and through: +Still follow me by day and night, + As they were wont to do. +Thy smile still haunts me, and thy voice, + At times I seem to hear; +And when the scented zephyrs pass + I fancy thou art near. + +'Twill not be long, dear heart, (although + It will seem long to me;) +Until I clasp thee once again; + To part no more from thee. +Though storms may roar, and oceans rage + And furies vent their spleen;-- +There's naught shall keep me from my love; + My beautiful;--my queen! + + + +Now and Then. + + +Did we but know what lurks beyond the NOW; + Could we but see what the dim future hides; +Had we some power occult that would us show + The joy and sorrow which in THEN abides; +Would life be happier,--or less fraught with woe, + Did we but know? + +I long, yet fear to pierce those clouds ahead;-- + To solve life's secrets,--learn what means this death. +Are fresh joys waiting for the silent dead? + Or do we perish with am fleeting breath? +If not; then whither will the spirit go? + Did we but know. + +'Tis all a mist. Reason can naught explain, + We dream and scheme for what to-morrow brings; +We sleep, perchance, and never wake again, + Nor taste life's joys, or suffer sorrow's stings. +Will the soul soar, or will it sink below? + How can we know. + +"You must have Faith!"--How can a mortal weak, + Pin faith on what he cannot comprehend? +We grope for light,--but all in vain we seek, + Oblivion seems poor mortal's truest friend. +Like bats at noonday, blindly on we go, + For naught we know. + +Yet, why should we repine? Could we but see + Our lifelong journey with its ups and downs! +Ambition, hope and longings all would flee, + Indifferent alike to smiles and frowns. +'Tis better as it is. It must be so. + We ne'er can know. + + + +The Open Gates. + + + My heart was sad when first we met; + 'Yet with a smile,-- + A welcome smile I ne'er forget, + Thou didst beguile +My sighs and sorrows;-and a sweet delight +Shed a soft radiance, where erst was night. + + I dreamed not we should meet again;-- + But fate was kind, + Once more my heart o'er fraught with pain, + To joy inclined. +It seemed thy soul had power to penetrate +My inmost self, changing at will my state. + + Then sprang the thought:--Be thou my Queen! + I will be slave; + Make here thy throne and reign supreme, + 'Tis all I crave. +Let me within thy soothing influence dwell, +Content to know, with thee all must be well. + + I knew not that another claimed + By prior right, + Those charms that had my breast inflamed + With fancies bright. +Ah! then I recognized my loneliness:-- +My dreams dispelled;--still I admired no less. + + Time wearily dragged on its way,-- + We met once more, + And thou wert free! Oh, happy day! + As sight of shore +Cheers the worn mariner;--so sight of thee, +Made my heart beat with sweet expectancy. + + Is it too much to hope,--someday + This heart of mine, + That beats alone for thee,--yet may + Thy love enshrine? +All things are said to come to him who waits, +I'm waiting, darling.--Love, opes wide the gates. + + + +Blue Bells. + + +Bonny little Blue-bells + Mid young brackens green, +'Neath the hedgerows peeping + Modestly between; +Telling us that Summer + Is not far away, +When your beauties blend with + Blossoms of the May. + +Sturdy, tangled hawthorns, + Fleck'd with white or red, +Whilst their nutty incense, + All around is shed. +Bonny drooping Blue-bells, + Happy you must be +With your beauties sheltered + 'Neath such fragrant tree. + +You need fear no rival,-- + Other blossoms blown, +With their varied beauties + But enhance your own. +Steals the soft wind gently, + 'Round th' enchanted spot, +Sets your bells a-ringing + Though we hear them not. + +Idle Fancy wanders + As you shake and swing, +Our hearts shape the message + We would have you bring. +Dreams of happy Springtimes + We hope yet to share; +Vague, but pleasant visions + All to melt in air. + +Children's merry voices + Break your witching spells, +Chubby hands are clasping + Languishing Blue-bells. +Gay and happy children + Hop and skip along, +With their ringing laughter, + Sweet as skylark's song. + +Slowly soon I follow + Through the rustic lane, +But the sight that greets me + Gives me pang of pain. +Strewed upon the pathway, + Fairy Blue-bells lie, +Trampled, crushed and wilted, + Cast away to die. + +Yet they lived not vainly + Though their life was brief, +Shedding gleams of gladness + O'er a world of grief. +And they taught a lesson,-- + Rightly understood; +By their mute endeavour + Striving to do good. + + + +A Song of the Snow + + +Oh the snow,--the bright fleecy snow! +Isn't it grand when the north breezes blow? +Isn't it bracing the ice to skim o'er, +With a jovial friend or the one you adore? +How the ice crackles, and how the skates ring, +How friends flit past you like birds on the wing. +How the gay laugh ripples through the clear air, +How bloom the roses on cheeks of the fair! + Few are the pleasures that life can bestow, + To equal the charms of the beautiful snow. + +Oh, the snow,-the pitiless snow! +Cruel and cold, as the shelterless know; +Huddled in nooks on the mud or the flags, +Wrapp'd in a few scanty, fluttering rags. +Gently it rests on the roof and the spire, +And filling the streets with its slush and the mire, +Freezing the life out of poor, starving souls, +Wild whirling and drifting as Boreas howls. + Hard is their lot who have no where to go, + To shelter from storm and the merciless snow. + +Oh, the snow,-the treacherous snow! +Up in a garret on pallet laid low! +Dying of hunger,--oh, sad is her fate;-- +No food in the cupboard,--no fire in the grate. +A widening streak of frost crystals are shed, +Through the window's broke pane on the comfortless bed, +And the child that she clasps to her chill milkless breast, +Has ended its troubles, and gone to its rest. + Husbandless,--childless, and friendless.--Go slow,-- + She sleeps with her babe, and their shroud is the snow. + +Oh, the snow, the health-giving snow! +Setting the cheeks of the children aglow, +Father and mother,--well fed and well clad, +Join in the frolic like young lass and lad. +Little they dream of the suffering and woe, +Of those shivering outcasts with nowhere to go. +Then they read from their paper with quivering breath, +Accounts of poor wand'rers found frozen to death, + And their hearts with pure pity perchance overflow, + But it vanishes soon, like the beautiful snow. + + + +Hide not thy Face. + + +Hide not Thy face,--and though the road + Be dark and long and rough, +With cheerfulness I'll bear my load, + Thy smile will be enough. +All other helps I can forego, + If with Faith's eye I trace, +Through earthly clouds of grief and woe, + The presence of Thy face. + +Hide not Thy face;--weak, worn and + Oppressed with doubt and fear; +Still will I utter no complaint,-- + Content if Thou art near. +Thy loving hand my steps shall guide, + And set my doubts at rest; +In loving trust, whate'er betide, + For Thou, Lord, knowest best. + +Hide not Thy face;--the tempter's wiles + Around my feet are spread; +The world's applause,-the wanton's smiles, + Beset the path I tread. +Alone, too weak to fight the host + Of Pleasure's vicious train, +'Tis then I need Thy succour most;-- + Let me not seek in vain. + +Hide not Thy face, but day by day, + Shine out more clearly bright; +Until this narrow, thorny way, + Shall end in Death's dark night. +Then freed from all the taints of sin, + Through Thine abundant Grace; +The crown of righteousness I win, + And see Thee face to face. + + + +In my Garden of Roses. + + +Oh! Come to me, darling! My Sweet! + Here where the sunlight reposes; +Pink petals lie thick at my feet, + Here in my garden of rose's. + +Oh! come to my bower! My Queen! + Sweet with the breath of the flow'rs; +Shaded with curtains of green;-- + Here let us dream through the hours. + +The sky is unfleck'd overhead,-- + Trees languish in Sol's fervid ray,-- +The earth to the heavens is wed, + And robin is piping his lay. + +Lost is their sweetness upon me; + Vainly their beauties displaying;-- +Cheerless I wander, and lonely,-- + Hoping and longing and praying. + +Oh! come to me, Queenliest flower! + Reign in my garden of roses; +Humbly we bow to thy power, + Loving the sway thou imposes. + +Hark! 'Tis her tinkling footfall! + Robin desist from thy singing; +Mar not those sounds that enthrall,-- + Faint as a fairy bell's ringing. + +She cometh! My lily! my rose! + Queenlier,--purer, and sweeter! +Haste, every blossom that blows, + Pour out your perfumes to greet her! + +Panting she rests in my arms;-- + Now is my bower enchanted! +Essence of all this world's charms;-- + My heart has won all that it wanted. + + + +The Match Girl. + + +Merrily rang out the midnight bells, + Glad tidings of joy for all; +As crouched a little shiv'ring child, + Close by the churchyard wall. +The snow and sleet were pitiless, + The wind played with her rags, +She beat her bare, half frozen feet + Upon the heartless flags; +A tattered shawl she tightly held + With one hand, round her breast; +Whilst icicles shone in her hair, + Like gems in gold impressed, +But on her pale, wan cheeks, the tears + That fell too fast to freeze, +Rolled down, as soft she murmured, + "Do buy my matches, please." + +Wee, weak, inheritor of want! + She heard the Christmas chimes, +Perchance, her fancy wrought out dreams, + Of by-gone, better times, +The days before her mother died, + When she was warmly clad; +When food was plenty, and her heart + From morn to night was glad. + +Her father now is lying sick, + She soon may be alone; +He cannot use his spade and pick, + As once he could have done. +The workhouse door stands open wide, + But should he enter there, +They'd tear his darling from his side + And place her anywhere. +They'd call it charitable help, + Though breaking both their hearts; +But then, when in adversity + Folks have to bear the smarts. + +Some carriages go rolling by, + Gay laughter greets her ears; +She envies not their better lot, + She only sheds more tears, +And now and then a passing step, + Will cause the tears to cease; +As fainter, fainter, comes the plaint, + "Do buy my matches, please." + + +Darker the sky, colder the wind,-- + The bells are silent now;-- +She creeps still closer to the wall, + And sinks upon the snow. +The sound of revelry no more + Disturbs her weary ear, +Sleep conquers cold and pain and grief;-- + Oblivion shuts out fear. +The snow drifts to the churchyard wall, + The graves with white are spread; +But those gray walls do not enclose + All of the near-by dead. + +The wind has ta'en the snowflakes, + And gently as it might, +Has spread a shroud o'er one more lost + And hid it from the sight. + +I would not wake her if I could, + 'Twas well for her she died; +Her spirit floated out upon + The bells of Christmastide, +She breathed no prayer, nor thought of Heaven,-- + Her last faint words were these;-- +As time merged in eternity, + "Do buy my matches, please." + +But surely angels would be there, + To shield her from all harm; +And in Christ's loving bosom, + She could nestle and get warm. + +The wifeless, childless, stricken man, + Lies moaning in his pain-- +"Come, let me bless thee e'er I die!" + But she never came again. + + + +De Profundis. + + +Down in the deeps of dark despair and woe;-- + Of Death expectant;--Hope I put aside; +Counting the heartbeats, slowly, yet more slow,-- + Marking the lazy ebb of life's last tide. +Sweet Resignation, with her opiate breath, + Spread a light veil, oblivious, o'er the past, +And all unwilling handmaid to remorseless Death, + Shut out the pain of life's great scene,--the last. + +When, lo! from out the mist a slender form + Took shape and forward pressed and two bright eyes +Shone as two stars that gleam athwart the storm, + Grandly serene, amid the cloud-fleck'd skies. +"Not yet," she said, "there are some sands to run, + Ere he has reached life's limit, and no grain +Shall lie unused. Then, when his fight is done, + Pronounce the verdict,--be it loss or gain." + +I felt her right hand lightly smooth my brow, + Her left hand on my heart; and a sweet thrill +Swept all the strings of being, and the flow + Of a full harmony aroused the dormant will. +Death slunk away, sweet Resignation paled, + And Hope's bright star made all the future bright; +The clouds were rent;--a woman's love prevailed, + And dragged a sinking soul once more to love and light. + +Angels there are who walk this troublous world, + Whose wings are hid beneath poor mortal clay, +Lest their effulgence to man's eyes unfurled, + Might scare the timid-hearted ones away. +The whispered word, the smile, the gentle tone, + Love-prompted from a woman's heaving breast, +Enforce her claim to make the world her throne, + Beyond compare,--of all God's gifts the best. + + + +Nettie. + + +Nettie, Nettie! oh, she's pretty! + With her wreath of golden curls; +None compare with charming Nettie, + She's the prettiest of girls. +Not her face alone is sweetest,-- + Nor her eyes the bluest blue, +But her figure is the neatest + Of all forms I ever knew. +But she has a fault,--the greatest + That a pretty girl could have; +When she's looking the sedatist, + And pretending to be grave,-- +You discover, 'spite of hiding, + What I feel constrained to tell; +That she knows she is a beauty,-- + Knows it,--knows it,--aye, too well. +May be when the bloom has vanished; + Which we know in time it will; +And her foolish fancies banished, + May be, she'll be lovely still. +For though Time may put his finger, + On her dainty-fashioned face; +There will still some beauty linger, + Round her form so full of grace. +And her heart,--the priceless treasure, + Which so many long to win, +Still shall prove a fount of pleasure, + To the love that enters in. +Pity 'tis that fairest blossoms + Must in time fall from the tree; +Pity 'tis that snow-white bosoms + Must yield up their symmetry. +Brightest eyes will lose their love-light, + Fairest cheeks grow pale and gray;-- +Golden locks will lose their sunlight, + And the loveliest limbs decay. +But whilst life is left we hunger + For a taste of earthly bliss; +But the man need seek no longer, + Who can call sweet Nettie his. + + + +The Dean's Brother. + + +A little lad, but thinly clad, + All day had roamed the street; +With stitled groans and aching bones, + He beg'd for bread to eat. + +The wind blew shrill from o'er the hili, + And shook his scanty rags; +Whilst cold and sleet benumbed his feet, + As plodding o'er the flags. + +The night drew on with thick'ning gloom,-- + He hailed each passer by, +For help to save, but nought they gave,-- + Then he sat down to cry. + +It was a noble portico, + 'Neath which the beggar stept, +And none would guess, one in distress + There shiv'ring sat and wept. + +But soon the door was open thrown,-- + The Dean, a goodly man; +Who lived within, had heard a moan, + And came the cause to scan. + +"Ah, little boy, what want you here, + On such a bitter night? +Run home at once, you little dunce, + Or you'll be frozen quite." + +The boy looked at his cheery face, + Yet hid his own in dread; +"I meant no harm, the place was warm, + And I am begging bread; + +"And if you can a morsel spare, + I'll thank you, oh! so much, +For all day long I've begged and sung, + And never had a touch." + +"Step in," then said the kindly man, + "And stand here in the hall, +You shall have bread, poor starving child, + I promise you you shall." + +And off he went, and soon returned + With a thin, tempting slice, +And little Jemmy dapt his hands + And cried, "Oh, Sir, that's nice!" + +"And what's your name, come tell me that?" + "My name is Jimmy Pool." +"And do you always beg all day + Instead of going to school? + +"And can you read, and can you write?" + Poor Jimmy shook his head, +"No, sir, I have to beg all day, + At night I go to bed. + +"My mother lays me on the floor, + Upon a little rug; +And I ne'er think of nothing more, + When I'm so warm and snug. + +"Sometimes I wake, and when I do, + Unless it's almost day, +She's always there, upon her chair, + Working the night away. + +"It isn't much that she can make,-- + Sometimes I think she'd die, +But for her little Jimmy's sake,-- + There's only her and I." + +"And do you ever pray, my boy?" + "No, sir, I never tried, +I never heard a praying word + Since my poor Daddy died." + +"Then let me teach you, little boy, + Just come now, let me see,-- +I know you'll manage if you try,-- + Now say it after me. + +"Our Father,"--"Our Father,"--"right," + "That art in heaven," "go on!" +Jimmy repeated every word, + Until the prayer was done. + +Then turning up his hazel eyes, + Which questioning light shone through, +He said, "that prayer sounds very nice,-- + Is He your Father too?" + +"Yes, He is mine as well as yours, + And Lord of all you see." +"Far as I know, if that be so, + My brother you must be." + +"Yes we are brethren, every one, + All equal in His sight." +"Well, I will _try_ to think so, sir, + But I can't believe it _quite_. + +"It seems so strange that you should be + Akin to such as me, +For you are rich, and great, and grand + And I'm so poor you see." + +"But it is true, my little lad, + And if to Him you pray, +He'll make your little heart feel glad,-- + He'll turn you not away." + +"Well, if that's so, I'll learn to pray, + I'll take your kind advice,-- +But if you are my brother, + Give me just one thicker slice. + +"And if He's Father of us all,-- + Now, as I'm going home, +From your big share perhaps you'll spare + Your widowed sister some?" + +The Dean's face wore a puzzled look, + And then a look of joy; +Then said, "'tis you the teacher are, + I am the scholar, boy." + +That night the widow's eyes were wet, + But they were tears of joy,-- +'When she beheld the load of things + Brought by her little boy. + +And Jimmy danced upon the flags, + And cried, "there's few have seen, +And ever thought that in these rags, + Stands brother to a Dean." + + + +I Would not Live Alway. + + +"I would not live alway," +Why should I wish to stay, +Now, when grown old and grey, +Enduring slow decay? +When power to do has fled, +'Twere better to be dead-- +The tree that's ceased to bear, +Has no right to be there. +Who cares to keep a bird +Whose note is never heard? +Yet many things abound, +Encumbering the ground; +Useless, unsightly wrecks, +That only serve to vex +The sight of those who boast +All that those wrecks have lost. + +If God gave me this life,-- +Now, when worn out with strife, +May I not give it back +And move from out the track? + +This world is not for drones! +The right to live each owns; +But he to earn that right +Must work with all his might. + +When power to do has fled, +'Twere better to be dead. +The dog has had its day;-- +"I would not live alway." + + + +Too Late. + + + How should I know, + That day when first we met, + I Would be a day + I never can forget? + And yet 'tis so. +That clasp of hands that made my heartstrings thrill, +Would not die out, but keeps vibrating still? + How should I know? + + How should I know, + That those bright eyes of thine + Would haunt me yet? + And through Grief's dark cloud shine, + With that same glow? +That thy sweet smile, so full of trust and love, +Should, beaming still, a priceless solace prove? + How should I know? + + How should I know + That one so good and fair, + Would condescend + To spare a thought, or care, + For one so low? +I dared not hope such bliss could be in store;-- +How dare I who had known no love before? + How should I know? + + But now I know-- + Too late, alas! the prize + Can ne'er be mine, + Yet do I hug the pain, + And bless the blow, +Knowing I love, and am loved in return, +Is bliss undying whilst Life's lamp shall burn. + Yes, now I know. + + + +On the Banks of the Calder. + + +On Calder's green banks I stroll sadly and lonely, + The flowers are blooming, the birds singing sweet, +The river's low murmur seems whispering only, + The name of the laddie I came here to meet. +He promised yestre'en, by the thorn tree in blossom, + He'd meet me to-night as the sun sank to rest, +And a sprig of May blossom he put on my bosom, + As his lips to my hot cheeks he lovingly prest. + + Oh, where is my laddie? Oh, where is my Johnnie? + Oh, where is my laddie, so gallant and free? + He's winsome and witty, his face is so bonny, + Oh, Johnnie,--my Johnnie,--I'm waiting for thee. + +The night's growing dark and the shadows are eerie, + The stars now peep out from the blue vault above; +Oh, why does he tarry? oh, where is my dearie? + Oh, what holds him back from the arms of his love? +I know he's not false, by his kind eyes so blue,-- + And his tones were sincere when he called me his own; +Oh, he promised so fairly he'd ever be true,-- + But why does he leave me to wander alone? + + Oh, where is my laddie? Oh, where is my Johnnie? + Oh, where is my laddie so gallant and free? + He's winsome and witty, his face is so bonny, + Oh, Johnnie,--my Johnnie, I'm waiting for thee. + +The moon now is up,--the owl hoots in the wood, + The trees sigh and moan, and the water runs black; +The tears down my cheeks roll a sorrowful flood,-- + And my heart throbs to tell me he'll never come back. +Oh, woe, woe is me! Did he mean to betray? + Must my ruin the price of his perfidy be? +No, the river shall hide me and bear me away; + Cold Calder receive me, I'm coming to thee. + + Oh, where is her laddie? Oh, where is her Johnnie? + Oh, where is her laddie that treated her so? + But the voice of the river shall haunt him for ever, + And his base heart shall never more happiness know. + + + +Lines on Receiving a Bunch of Wild Hyacinths by Post. + + + Sweet, drooping, azure tinted bells, + How dear you are; + Bringing the scent of shady dells, + To me from far; +Telling of spring and gladsome sunny hours,-- +Nature's bright jewels!=-heart-refreshing flowers! + + Oh, for a stroll when opening day + Silvers the dew, + Kissing the buds, whilst zephyrs play + As though they knew +Their gentle breath was needed, just to shake +Your slumbering beauties, and to bid you wake. + + Far from the moilding town and trade, + How sweet to spend + An hour amid the misty glade, + And find a friend +In every tiny blossom, and to lie, +And dream of Him whose love can never die. + + Ye are Gael's messengers, sent here + To make us glad; + Mute, and yet eloquent, to cheer + The heart that's sad; +To turn our thoughts from sordid earthly gains, +To that bright home where peace for ever reigns. + + How dare we murmur, when around + On every side, + Such proofs of His great love abound, + O'er the world wide? +Faith cannot die within these hearts of ours, +If we but learn the lessons of the flowers. + + Thanks to the one whose kindly heart + Was moved to send + This gift, when we were far apart, + To cheer a friend. +Sweet meditation now my mind employs; +A pleasure pure, and one which never cloys. + + + +November's Here. + + +Dullest month of all the year,-- +Suicidal atmosphere, +Everything is dark and drear, +Filling nervous minds with fear, +Skies are seldom ever clear, +Fogs are ever hov'ring near,-- +'Tis a heavy load to bear. + +Were it not that life is dear, +We should wish to disappear, +For it puts us out of gear. + +But in vain we shed the tear, +We must still cling to the rear +Of the year that now is near. + +Though our eyes begin to blear, +With fogs thick enough to shear, +And we feel inclined to swear, +At the month that comes to smear +All things lovely, all things dear; +We must bear and yet forbear. + +But some thoughts our spirits cheer, +Christmas time will soon be here, +Then at thee we'll scoff and jeer, +Smoke our pipes and drink our beer,-- +Sit until brave chanticleer +Tells us that the morn is here. + +Do thy worst, November drear! +We can stand it, never fear,-- +Christmas time will soon be here. + + + +Mary. + + +My Mary's as sweet as the flowers that grow, + By the side of the brooklet that runs near her cot; +Her brow is as fair as the fresh fallen snow, + And the gleam of her smile can be never forgot. +Her figure is lithe and as graceful I ween + As was Venus when Paris awarded the prize, +She's the wiles of a fairy,--the step of a queen, + And the light of true love's in her bonny brown eyes. + +To see was to love her,--to love was to mourn,-- + For her heart was as fickle as April days +When you'd given her all and asked some return, + You got but a taste of her false winsome ways. +You never could tell, though you knew her so well, + That her sweet fascinations were nothing but lies, +Like a fool you loved on when of hope there was none + And your heart sought relief in her bonny brown eyes. + +Yet 'tis sad to relate, though unhappy my fate, + I would sacrifice all that on earth I hold dear, +If she would but consent to be true, and content, + With the heart that is faithful when distant or near. +Through pleasure and pain we together again, + May never commingle our smiles and our sighs, +But when sleeping or waking, I struggle in vain, + To forget the sweet maid with the bonny brown eyes. + +Oh, Mary, my love! with the coo of the dove, + I would woo thee to win thee, and ever to live, +Where thy bright loving face and thy figure of grace, + Could surround me with joys that none other can give. +Oh, say but a word, and I'll fly like a bird, + To the one whom my heart will beat for till it dies, +Bid me come to my home, bid me come, bid me come, + And bask in the light of thy bonny brown eyes. + + + +When Cora Died. + + +Bells ring out a joyful sound, + Old and young alike seem gay; +One more year has gone its round, + Again we greet a New Year's Day. +Whilst to some they tell of cheer, + Other hearts may grief betide, +For 'twas in the glad New Year + When our darling Cora died. + +Like a snowdrop, pure and fair, + She had blossomed in our home; +Her we nursed with tender care, + Lest Death's blighting frost should come. +And we prayed to keep her here, + But our pleading was denied;-- +Early in the glad New Year, + Little darling Cora died. + +Death had taken some before, + Some from whom 'twas hard to part; +And their voices now no more, + Come to cheer the longing heart. +In that one frail blossom dear, + Centered all our hope and pride; +Alas! Then came the sad New Year, + When our darling Cora died. + +Since that time the pealing bells + Wake sad echoes in the heart; +And the grief that in us dwells + Makes the tears unbidden start. +Though they ring so loud and clear, + Flinging gladness far and wide, +They to me recall the year, + When our darling Cora died. + + + +The Violet. + + +Little simple violet, +Glittering with dewy wet, +Hidden by protecting grass +All unheeded we should pass +Were it not the rich perfume, +Leads us on to find the bloom +Which so modestly does dwell, +Sweetly scenting all the dell. + +Simple little violet;-- +Lessons I shall ne'er forget +By thy modest mien were taught,-- +Rich in peace,--with wisdom fraught. +Oft I've laid me down to rest, +With thy blossoms on my breast; +Screen'd from noontide's sunny flood, +By some monarch of the wood. + +I have thought and dreamed of thee, +Clad in such simplicity; +Yet so rich in fragrance sweet, +That exhales from thy retreat; +And I've seen the gaudy flower +Blest alone with beauty's dower;-- +Have looked,--admired,--then bid them go,-- +Violet,--I love thee so. + +Rival, thou hast none to fear, + For to me thou art most dear;-- +Buttercups and daisies vie, + 'With thy charms to please the eye, +Roses red and lillies white, + All enchanting to the sight; +Yield me joys sincere, but yet + Thou'rt my favorite,--Violet. + + + +Repentant. + + +Oh lend me thy hand in the darkness, + Lead me once more to the light, +Bear with my folly and weakness, + Point me the way to do right. +Long have I groped in the shadow + Of error, temptation and doubt, +In the maze I've strayed hither and thither, + Vainly seeking to find a way out. + +When I grasp thy firm hand in the darkness, + Courage takes place of my fear; +No more do I shudder and tremble, + When I know that my loved one is near. +From sorrow and trouble, oh, lead me;-- + From dangers that sorely affright, +Till at last every terror shall leave me, + And I rest in thine own loving light. + +Rest! Aye, rest! If I have thy forgiveness, + If thy strong arm about me is twined; +Let the past, like a horrible vision, + Be for ever cast out of thy mind. +When I wilfully all my vows slighted, + And sought joy in a glittering sin, +I found but two lives that were blighted, + Two hearts filled with ruin within. + +Oh, take me again to thy bosom, + With a kiss, tho' it be on my brow; +And forgive one who wayward and sinful, + Ne'er knew how she loved thee till now. +And keep me away from the darkness, + Let thy hand lead me on evermore, +Let me cling to thee, bless thee, and love thee, + As no loved one was e'er loved before. + + + +Sunset. + + +Last eve the sun went down + Like a globe of glorious fire; +Into a sea of gold + I watched the orb expire. +It seemed the fitting end + For the brightness it had shed, +And the cloudlets he had kissed + Long lingered over head. + +All vegetation drooped, + As if with pleasure faint: +The lily closed its cup + To guard 'gainst storm and taint. +The cool refreshing dew + Fell softly to the earth, +All lovely things to cheer, + And call more beauties forth. + +And as I sat and thought + On Nature's wond'rous plan, +I felt with some regret, + How small a thing is man. +However bright he be, + His efforts are confined, +Yet maybe, if he will, + Leave some rich fruits behind. + + +The sun that kissed the flowers, + And made the earth look gay, +Was culling, through the hours, + Rich treasures on his way. +And when the day was dead, + His stored up riches fell, +And to the moon arose + Incense from hill and dell. + +And when our span of life + Is ended, will it be +Through such a glorious death + We greet Eternity? +What have we said or done + In all the long years passed! +And may not such as me, + Forgotten, die at last? + + + +Poetry and Prose. + + +Do you remember the wood, love, + That skirted the meadow so green; +Where the cooing was heard of the stock-dove, + And the sunlight just glinted between. +The trees, that with branches entwining + Made shade, where we wandered in bliss, +And our eyes with true love-light were shining,-- + When you gave me the first loving kiss? + +The ferns grew tall, graceful and fair, + But none were so graceful as you; +Wild flow'rs in profusion were there, + But your eyes were a lovelier blue; +And the tint on your cheek shamed the rose, + And your brow as the lily was white, +And your curls, bright as gold, when it glows, + In the crucible, liquid and bright. + +And do you remember the stile, + Where so cosily sitting at eve, +Breathing forth ardent love-vows the while, + We were only too glad to believe? +And the castles we built in the air, + Oh! what glorious structures were they! +No temple all earth was so fair,-- + But alas! they all vanished away. + +And do you remember the time, + When cruel fate forced us apart, +When with resignation sublime + We obeyed, though with pain in each heart. +Then years dragged their wearisome round, + And we ne'er again met as of yore,-- +But we did meet at last and we found, + Things were not as they had been before. + +You'd a child on your rough sunburned arm, + And your husband had one on his knee, +And I had my own little swarm, + For I was the father of three. +And I know we both thought of the days + When love and romance filled each heart, +Now, we both have our children to raise,-- + You're washing,--I'm driving a cart. + + + +Years Ago. + + +Annie I dreamed a strange dream last night, +At my bedside, I dreamed, you stood clad in white; +Your dark curly hair 'round your snow-white brow,-- +(Are those locks as raven and curly now?) +And those rosebud lips, which in days lang syne, +I have kissed and blest, because they were mine. + And thine eyes soft light, + Shone as mellow and bright, + As it did years ago,-- + Years ago. + +And I fancy I heard the soft soothing sound +Of thy voice, that sweet melody breathed all around, +Whilst enraptured I gazed, and once more the sweet smile, +Made sunshine, my sorrowing heart to beguile, +And thy milkwhite hands stroked my heated brow;-- +(Oh! what would I give could I feel them now!) + But alas! Woe is me! + No more can it be, + As it was years ago,-- + Years ago. + +I awoke with a gnawing pain at my heart, +The vision had vanished,--but oh, the smart +Of the wound, which no time can ever heal, +Was a torment, which only lost souls can feel. +Yet in spite of the pain, the woe, the despair, +I dote, as I look on a lock of dark hair, + That I culled from the head, + Of the loveliest maid; + Many long years ago,-- + Years ago. + +Will fate ever bring us together again? +Will my heart never know a surcease from pain? +Are the dark locks I worshipped, now mingled with grey? +Has Time stolen brightness and beauty away? +I care not,--for years have but made thee more dear; + But my longing is vain, + Thou wilt ne'er come again. + Lost,--lost,--years ago,-- + Years ago. + + + +Somebody's. + + +Oh, isn't it nice to be somebody's?-- + Somebody's darling and pet, +To be shrined in the heart of a dear one, + Whose absence fills soul with regret? +To be dreamed of, and longed for, and courted, + As the Queen whom his heart holds in thrall,-- +As the one--the great one, priceless jewel, + That outweighs and outvalues them all? + +Oh,--I'd rather my head should be resting, + On the breast of the man that I love; +And my hand in his strong grasp be nestling, + And bask in the light of his love:-- +I would rather,--far rather, my darling + Should be loving, and faithful, and brave, +Than be titled, and wealthy, and fickle;-- + E'en though poverty held him a slave. + +Oh, my heart yearns for one that is noble,-- + In mind, not in riches or birth, +Who would love me, and value my love too, + Then my lot would be heaven on earth. +But where, alas, where shall I find him? + This man, that my heart longs for so? +This idol I picture and dream of,-- + Does he live? I'm inclined to say, no. + +He is merely a fanciful hero, + That my heart has pictured so fair: +I must stoop from my realm of wild fancy, + And take what may fall to my share. +Some plain, honest, working mechanic, + May be the prize I may call mine, +But if shaped like a man he'll be better, + Nor be left lonely, without Valentine. + + + +Claude. + + +I named him Claude, 'twas a strange conceit, +'Twas a name that no relatives ever bore; +Yet there lingered around it a mem'ry sweet, +Of a face and a voice I miss evermore. + +I was pacing the deck of a captive ship, +That was straining its cables to get away, +From the parched up town, and its crowded slip, +To its home on the wave and its life in the spray. + +When I saw the beautiful, sorrowful dame,-- +And never, oh, never, shall I forget +The sweet chord struck as she spoke the name, +That thrilled through my being and lingers yet. + +'Twas a winsome woman with raven hair, +And a lovely face, and a beaming eye, +With a smile that of joy and sorrow had share, +And her form had the charms for which sculptors vie. + +I never had seen such a lovely hand, +As the one that she pressed to her snowy brow; +And her parted lips, showed a glistening band, +Of pearly teeth in an even row. + +A fragrant scent like a rose's breath, +Hung round her and seemed of herself a part, +And a bouquet of lillies as pale as death, +Drooped sadly above her beating heart. + +She only uttered the one word, "Claude," +But oh! 'twas so touchingly, sweetly said;-- +A volume of grief expressed in a word, +As she stedfastly gazed through the void overhead. + +Then I noticed the sombre garments she wore, +And I knew the grim reaper had gathered her flower +'Twas the sense of the heart-crushing sorrow she bore, +Invested that name with such marvellous power. + +She went ashore, and we sailed away, +'Twas the first and the only time ever we met, +But my memory limns her as lovely to-day, +As she was on that day I can never forget. + +Months after, my baby boy came unto me, +And I gave him the name she had breathed in her sigh, +He was fair and sweet as the bloom on the tree, +Yet he never felt mine, though I could not tell why. + +But that musical note floated round in the air,-- +"Claude!--Claude!" sang the zephyrs that softly sped by, +And his eyes had a far-a way look, as if there, +Far beyond, he could see what I failed to descry. + +One eve, in the gloaming, I hushed him to rest, +And the trees whispered "Claude" as they waved overhead, +He smiled as he nestled more close to my breast,-- +And I wept,--for I knew that my darling was dead. + + + +All on a Christmas Morning. + + +The wind it blew cold, and the ice was thick, + Deeper and deeper the snowdrifts grew; +A young mother lay in her cottage, sick,-- + Her needs were many, her comforts few. +Clasped to her breast was a newborn child, + Unknowing, unmindful of weal or woe; +And away, far away, in the tempest wild, + Was a husband and father, kneedeep in the snow. + All on a Christmas morning, long ago. + +The lamp burned low, and the fire was dead, + And the snow sifted in through each crevice and crack: +As she tossed and turned in her lowly bed, + And murmured, "Good Lord, bring my husband back." +The clocks in the city had told the hour + With a single stroke, for young was the day +But no swelling note from the loftiest tower, + Could reach that lone cot where a mother lay. + All on a Christmas morning, long ago. + +High on the moorland that crowned the hill, + Bewildered, benumbed, midst the snow, so deep, +Fighting for life with a desperate will, + Lost,--wearied and worn, and oppressed with sleep, +Was the husband and father, with grief almost wild, + Bearing cordials and medicine safely bestowed, +That he'd been to obtain for his wife and child;-- + Then exhausted he sank.--And it snowed,--and it snowed. + All on a Christmas morning, long ago. + +The sun arose on a world so white, + That glistened and sparkled beneath his ray: +And the children's faces looked just as bright, + As they cried, "What a glorious Christmas day!" +In a lowly cot lay a stiff white form,-- + And all was still, save a pitiful wail;-- +No more should that mother fear sickness or storm;-- + Together, two spirits sped through the dark vale. + All on a Christmas morning, long ago. + +Friends who were coming to bring good cheer, + Found a young babe sucking a cold white breast. +Noiselessly, reverently, gathering near, + The orphan to full hearts was lovingly pressed. +The parents were laid side by side in the grave, + And the babe grew in beauty of face and of form; +And they still call her Snowdrop, the name that they gave,-- + Sweet Snowdrop,--the frail little flower of the storm. + All on a Christmas morning, long ago. + + + +Once Upon a Time. + + +When dull November's misty shroud, + All Nature's charms depress, +Flinging a damp, dark, deadening cloud, + O'er each heart's joyousness. +Our fancies quit their lighter vein, + And out from Memory's shrine, +We marshal thoughts of grief and pain, + Known,--once upon a time. + +'Tis then that faces, long forgot, + In shadows reappear;-- +Voices, that once we heeded not, + Come whispering in the ear; +And ghosts of friends whom once we met, + When life was in its prime, +Recall acts we would fain forget, + Done,--once upon time. + +Regretfull sighs for thoughtless deeds, + That worked another wrong; +Vows that we broke, like rotten reeds + Like spectres glide along; +Tears naught avail to heal the smart, + We caused--nor deemed it crime, +Whilst selfishly we wrung a heart, + Loved,--once upon a time. + +Oh, could we but, as on we go, + Care more for other's weal, +Nor deem all joys earth can bestow, + Are but for us to feel; +Then howe'er humble, howe'er poor, + Our lives would be sublime, +Nor should we dread to ponder o'er, + Days,--once upon a time. + + + +Nearing Home. + + +We are near the last bend of the river, + Soon will the prospect be bright; +Already the waves seem to quiver, + As touched with celestial light. +Since first we were launched on its bosom, + Strange hap'nings and perils we've passed, +But we've braved and endured them together + And we're nearing the haven at last. + +We are near the last bend of lifes river, + Around, all is tranquil and calm; +The tempests that passed us can never, + Again strike our souls with alarm. +We are drifting,--unconsciously gliding, + Down Time's river--my darling and me. +And soon in love's sweet trust abiding, + We shall sail on Eternities sea. + +Oh, how the soul strains with its yearning + To see what is hid beyond this, +This life, with its pain and heartburning-- + The beyond, where is nothing but bliss. +Our life's Sun has touched the horizon, + It will speedily dip out of sight, +And then what? Will a new morn be rising? + Or will it for ever be night? + + + +Those Tiny Fingers. + + +She has gone for ever from earth away, + Yet those tiny fingers haunt me still; +In the silent night, when the moons pale ray, + Silvers the leaves on the window sill. +Just between sleeping and waking I lie, + Makebelieve feeling their velvet touch, +Darling! My darling! Oh, why should you die! + Leaving me lonely, who loved so much? + +Those tiny fingers that used to stray + Over my face which is wrinkled now; +Those little white hands--how they used to play, + With the wanton curls round my once fair brow. +Thy soft blue eyes and thy dimpled cheeks, + I seem to see now as I saw them then; +And a whispering voice to my sad heart speaks,-- + 'Thou shalt meet her again,'--but when? oh, when? + +Deep in the grave was the coffin laid, + And buried with it was my purest love; +Oh, how I'd hoped, and watched, and prayed, + That Death would pass by and spare my dove, +Was it in mercy God took thee hence? + Was it because I had worshipped thee so? +Was my devotion to thee an offence? + I was thy mother,--and God must know. + +If it were sinful, my tears have atoned; + At last I can murmur, "Thy will be done," +Sweet little cherub, to me but loaned, + Now safe at home, far beyond the sun. +Soon the dark river I too shall cross, + And hopefully climb up that golden stair, +And all this world's riches will be but dross, + If those tiny fingers beckon me there. + + + +Lilly-White Hand. + + +Place thy lilly-white hand in mine, + Maid with the wealth of golden hair;-- +Tresses, that gleaming like gold, entwine, + Round about a sweet face so fair. + +Sweetheart, oh! whisper once more the words, + That came from those coral lips of thine, +And bound thee to me by those silken cords,-- + And place thy lilly-white hand in mine, + +Place thy lilly-white hand in mine, + That its gentle pressure may tell my heart +That the idol round which I had reared a shrine, + Is mine,--mine,--never from me to part. + +Sweetest and fairest of woman kind! + Gentlest, kindest, lovingest, best,-- +Virtues with beauties are so combined, + That manhood pays homage at love's behest. + +Place thy lilly-white hand in mine, + Let its velvet touch on my horny palm, +Comfort, encourage, embolden, refine,-- + This grosser clay, by its subtle charm. + +Long as life lasts let me clasp thy hand, + As a pledge of our oneness, existing now; +And when I depart for the better land, + Let it rest for a while on my death-cold brow. + +Falsehood, treachery, sickness, pain,-- + I have endured, yet hopefully stand +Strong in the thought I have lived not in vain. + Had I won but this treasure,--this lilly-white hand. + + + +Shut Out. + + +_"The drunkard shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven."_ + + Far, far beyond the skies, + The land of promise lies; + When Death our souls release, + A home of love and peace, + Has been prepared for all, + Who heed the gracious call, +Drunkards that goal ne'er win,-- +They cannot enter in. + + Time noiselessly flits by, + Eternity draws nigh; + Will the fleet joy you gain, + Compensate for the pain, + That through an endless day, + Will wring your soul for aye? +Slave to beer, rum, or gin, +You cannot enter in. + + Dash down the flowing bowl, + Endanger not thy soul; + Ponder those words of dread, + That God Himself has said. + Hurl the vile tempter down, + And win and wear the crown, +Drunkard, forsake thy sin, +Thou mayst then enter in. + + + +Charming May. + + +"O! charming May!" +That's what they say. +The saying is not new,-- +The saying is not true;-- + O! May! + +Bare fields and icebound streams, +Sunshine in fitful gleams, + May smile + Beguile, +And dispel poets' dreams. + +Was ever May so gay +As what the poets say? + If so, + We know, +We live not in their day. + +A cosy coat and wrap, +You may not find mishap-- + Propo + You know +When comes the next cold snap. + +A heavy woollen scarf, +Strong boots that reach the calf,-- + Away we go +Through snow and slush and wet,-- +And can we once forget + 'Tis May? Oh, no! + +Best is the old advice +Which we so oft despise, +"Cast not a clout +Till May goes out." +May like a maiden, lies. + +A Maypole dance.--O, my! +Such sport is all "my eye," + Just try, +I tried it and I know, + The snow, the blow, +The aching toes, the smarting nose. + + I all defied, + And loudly cried + "Come on, + Each one, +Be gay! be gay!--'Tis May! Tis May" +They laughed and shook the head, +And this is what they said, + "Old Skunk, he's drunk." + +Still we do love her so,-- + Her truth? O, no! +She's like some fancy fickle, +She lands you in a pickle, + You grin and bear, + Maybe you swear +In manner most alarming, +And yet--Sweet May is charming. + + + +Who Cares? + + +Down in a cellar cottage + In a dark and lonely street, +Was sat a widow and her boy, + With nothing left to eat. + +The night was wild and stormy, + The wind howl'd round the door, +And heavy rain drops from above + Kept dripping to the floor. + +They had no candle burning, + The fire was long since dead, +A wretched heap of straw was all + They had to call a bed. + +They nestled close together, + On the cold and dampy ground, +And as the storm rush'd past them, + They trembled at the sound. + +"Mother," the poor boy whispered, + "May I not go again? +I do not heed the wind, mother, + I'm not afraid of rain. + +"May I not go and beg, mother, + For you are very ill; +Some one will give me something, + Mother, I'm sure they will? + +"Do let me go and try, mother, + You know I won't be long; +I did feel weak and tired, mother, + But now I feel quite strong. + +"Give me a kiss before I go, + And pray whilst I'm away, +That I may meet some Christian friend, + Who will not say me nay." + +"Dear boy, the night is stormy, + Your ragged clothes are thin, +And soon the heavy rain-drops + Will wet you to the skin. + +"I would go out myself, boy, + But, oh! I cannot rise, +I am too weak to dry the tears + That roll down from my eyes. + +"I fear I soon must go, love, + And leave my boy alone. +And oh! what can you do, love, + When I am dead and gone?" + +"Mother, you set me weeping, + Don't talk in such a strain, +Your tears are worse for me to bear + Than all the wind and rain. + +"Wait till I'm rather bigger, + And then I'll work all day, +And shan't we both be happy + When I bring you home my pay? + +"Then you shall have some tea, mother, + And bread as white as snow; +You won't be sickly then, mother, + You'll soon get well, I know. + +"And when that time shall come, mother, + You shall have some Sunday clothes, +Then you can go to church, mother-- + You cannot go in those. + +"And then I'll take you walking, + And you shall see the flowers, +And sit upon the sweet green grass + Beneath the trees for hours. + +"But I will haste away, mother, + I won't be long--good bye!" +"Farewell, my boy," she murmured, + Then she laid her down to die. + + ---------- + +The lamps were dimly shining, + And the waters in a flood, +Came rolling o'er the pavement, + Where the little beggar stood. + +He listened for a footstep, + Then he hurried on the street, +But the wind roared with such fury, + Till he scarce could keep his feet. + +A few there were who passed him, + But they had no time to stay; +They did not even stop to look, + But hurried quick away. + +He passed the marts of business, + Where the gaslights were ablaze, +And saw the countless heaps of things + Displayed to meet the gaze. + +One window held him spell-bound-- + From end to end 'twas piled +With loaves of bread a tempting sight + To a half-famished child. + +He clapped his little cold wet hands, + And almost danced for joy, +It seemed a glimpse of paradise + To that poor hungry boy. + +With timid step he ventured in, + And, trembling, thus began:-- +"Please, sir, I've come to beg for bread-- + Do help me if you can. + +"I do not want it for myself, + My mother, too, shall share; +Do give me just one little crust, + If you've a crust to spare." + +"Give!" cried the shopman in a rage-- + "What shall we live to see? +Go tell your mother she must work, + And earn her bread, like me." + +"But mother, sir, is very sick, + She cannot work, I'm sure; +Father died some months ago, + And left us very poor. + +"She has not tasted food for days. + And die I fear she must. +Unless you'll help us, Christian sir; + Do spare a little crust!" + +"I'll spare you nothing, saucy imp! + Away this moment! run! +And tell your sickly mother + I cannot thus be done!" + +He left the shop, and in the street + He sat him down to cry, +He heard the trampling of the feet + Of those who passed him by. + +He could not ask another, + For his every hope had fled,-- +('Tis sad that in a land like this + A child needs beg for bread.) + +Wet, cold, and faint, he reached his home, + No richer than before, +And noiselessly he entered in, + And gently closed the door. + +There is no sound, the mother sleeps-- + Then groping for the bed, +He bent his weak and stiffened knees, + And bowed his weary head, + +And pray'd "that God would grant them help, + And bring them safely through." +The whisper'd prayer was borne above, + Was heard, and answered too: + +And when the morning's sun looked in, + And filled the place with light, +Two lifeless bodies on the straw + Was all that met the sight. + +Thus were they found, alone, and dead, + No reason left to show +How they had come to that sad end; + And no one cared to know. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Yorkshire Lyrics, by John Hartley + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK YORKSHIRE LYRICS *** + +***** This file should be named 19470.txt or 19470.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/4/7/19470/ + +Produced by Alison Bush + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/19470.zip b/19470.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa28dbb --- /dev/null +++ b/19470.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93e971e --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #19470 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/19470) |