Chapter 2

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.