Part 4

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.