Nah Joe ta Bradford hed been before, But shoo hed nivver been; But hahsumivver they arrived Safe inta t'Bowlin' Green.

They gav a lad a parkin pig, As on the street they went; Ta point 'em aght St. George's Hall, An' Ostler's Monument.

Bud t'little jackanapes bein'deep, An' thowt they'd nivver knaw, Show'd Joseph Hobble an' his wife T'first monument he saw.

As sooin as Joe gat up ta t'rails, His een blaz'd in his heead; Exclamin', they mud just as weel A gooan an' robb'd the deead.

Bud whoivver's ta'en them childer dahn, Away fra poor owd d.i.c.k, Desarves his heead weel larapin, Wi' a dahn gooid hazel stick.

T'lad seein' Joe froth aght o' t'maath, He sooin tuke to his heels, Fer asteead o' t'Ostler's Monument, He'd shown 'em Bobby Peel's.

The Veteran.

I left yon fields so fair to view; I left yon mountain pa.s.s and peaks; I left two een so bonny blue, A dimpled chin and rosy cheeks.

For an helmet gay and suit o' red I did exchange my corduroy; I mind the words the Sergeant said, When I in sooth was but a boy.

"Come, rouse my lad, be not afraid; Come, join and be a brave dragoon: You'll be well clothed, well kept, well paid, To captain be promoted soon.

Your sweetheart, too, will smile to see Your manly form and dress so fine; Give me your hand and follow me,- Our troop's the finest in the line.

"The pyramids beheld our corps Drive back the mighty man of Fate!

Our ire is felt on every sh.o.r.e, In every country, clime, or state.

The Cuira.s.siers at Waterloo We crushed;-they were the pride of France!

At Inkerman, with sabre true, We broke the Russ and Cossack lance!

"Then come, my lad, extend your hand, Tame indolence I hold it mean; Now follow me, at the command, Of our Most Gracious Sovereign Queen!

A prancing steed you'll have to ride; A bonny plume will deck your brow; With clinking spurs and sword beside,- Come! here's the shilling: take it now!"

The loyal pledge I took and gave,- It was not for the silver coin; I wished to cross the briny wave, And England's gallant sons to join.

Since-many a summer's sun has set, An' time's graved-care is on my brow, Yet I am free and willing yet To meet old England's daring foe.

Address to the Queen, JUNE 20th, 1887.

_To the Queen's Most Excellent Majesty_.

Most Gracious Sovereign Lady, Victoria Alexandra Guelph, Queen of the hearts of her people throughout all civilisation, one of your Majesty's loyal and faithful subjects desires most respectfully to approach your Majesty to congratulate you upon the completion of the fiftieth year of your reign. In the same year of your Majesty's coronation, in a wild part of old Yorkshire, where it is said the wind never blew nor the c.o.c.k ever crew, was your Most Gracious Majesty's humble servant born; and at the very hour that your Majest ascended the Throne, a kind, good Yorkshire mother was rocking her baby in an old oak cradle, while the father was treading the treadles and picking the shuttle of his old hand-loom to the tune of "Britons never shall be slaves"; and I am proud to convey to your Majesty that the child in the old oak cradle was no less a person than your Majesty's humble and obedient servant, Bill o'th'

Hoylus End, Poet and Philosopher to the plebians of Keighley, and who now rejoices in the fiftieth year of your Majesty's reign that he has been blessed with good health during that long period, having had at no time occasion to call in a physician. John Barleycorn has been my medical adviser, and when I begin to review the fifty years of your most ill.u.s.trious reign, from my birth, I feel grateful indeed, for great and mighty men and nations have risen and fallen; but I am proud to think that your Most Gracious Majesty and your humble servant have weathered the storm, and I also can a.s.sure your Majesty that the lukewarm loyalty of the upper ten is not a sample of people here, for during the latter half of your Majesty's reign up to now prosperity has shone upon the once crooked, old, mis-shapen town, for wealth has been acc.u.mulated to the tune of millions, which I am sorry to inform your Majesty is in the hands of those who mean to keep it. One portion of your Majesty's lukewarm loyal subjects have the advancement of art and science so much on the brain that it is feared they will go stark mad. I have also much pleasure in informing your gracious Majesty that His Grace the Duke of Devonshire has presented the people of Keighley with a plot of ground to be called the Devonshire Park, which will be opened on the occasion of your Majesty's Jubilee; also that Henry Isaac b.u.t.terfield, Esquire, of bonny Cliffe Castle, has erected a n.o.ble-looking structure, to be called the Jubilee Tower, which will be opened on the day of your Majesty's Grand Jubilee, to commemorate your Majesty's glorious reign. This gentleman is a native of Keighley, and fairly ent.i.tled to be knighted by your gracious Majesty, seeing that he has done more to beautify the town than all the rest. It has also been given out that the town has to be honoured by a royal visit from your Majesty's grandson, Prince George.

But pray take a fool's advice, your Majesty, and don't let him come unless he is able to pay his own expenses; for I can a.s.sure His Royal Highness that this is the city of number oneism. Yet with the exception of parting with the bawbees, I dare be sworn that your Majesty's subjects in Keighley are the grand and genuine men of the shire, take them in art and science, flood or field.

I sincerely hope that your Most Gracious Majesty will excuse the blunt and out-spoken Bard, who will ever remain your Majesty's most humble and obedient servant,-BILL O'TH' HOYLUS END.

P.S.-I beg your Majesty's most humble pardon, for since I addressed your most gracious Majesty a note has come to me stating that the Brewers, Bakers, Shoemakers, and Tailors, have subscribed and bought a splendid Ox, which will be roasted and served to the poor on the occasion of the celebration of your most gracious Majesty's Jubilee.

Then Hail to England's Gracious Queen!

'Tis now proclaimed afar, The Jubilee of our Gracious Queen, The Empire's Guiding Star.

For fifty years she's been to us A Monarch and a Mother; And looks her subjects in the face As Sister or a Brother.

Then here's a health to England's Queen Whom Jove to us hath given; A better Monarch ne'er has been Beneath His starry heaven.

There is no man of any clan, O'er any land or sea, But what will sing "G.o.d bless our Queen"

On her grand Jubilee.

The world looks on Old England's Queen In danger for protection; Nor never yet hath England failed To make her grand correction.

"Fair play," she cries, no one shall harm A child beneath my realm; I'm Captain of Great Britain's barque And standing at the helm.

Had England trusted wicked men, This day where had she been?

But lo! she had a Guiding Star, 'Twas our dear Mother Queen.

There is no foe, where'er you go This day, I vow, could hate her; She's a blessing to her nation, And a terror to a traitor.

As she has been, long may she reign, The Grand Old Queen of Britain; In letters of bright gold her name Henceforward should be written.

All nations 'neath the stars above, And canopy of heaven, Rejoice to see her Jubilee In Eighteen Eighty-seven.

Ode to Burns on his 130th Birthday.

Weak bard, but thou dost try in vain To tune that mighty harp again, To try thy muse in Burns's strain- Thou'rt far behind.

And yet to praise him thou would'st fain- It is thy mind.

He who sang of Bruce's command At Bannockburn, with sword in hand, And bid his warriors firmly stand Upon the spot; And bid the foemen leave the land, Or face the Scot.

He who freed the human mind Of superst.i.tious weak and blind; He who peered the scenes behind Their holy fairs- How orthodox its pockets lined With canting prayers.

Yes; he whose life's short span appears Mixed up with joyous smiles and tears; So interwove with doubts and fears His harp did ring; And made the world to ope' its ears And hear him sing.

'Twas his to walk the lonely glen, Betimes to shun the haunts of men, Searching for his magic pen- Poetic fire; And far beyond the human ken He strung the lyre.

And well old Scotland may be proud To hear her Burns proclaimed aloud, For to her sons the world hath bowed Through Burns's name- All races of the world are proud Of Burns's fame.

Trip to Malsis Hall.

The day wor fine, the sun did shine, No signs o' rain to fall, When t'North Beck hands, i' jovial bands, Did visit Malsis Hall.

Up by the hill o' North Beck Mill, Both owd an' young did meet; To march I trow, i' two-by-two, Procession dahn the street.

An' Marriner's Band, wi' music grand, Struck up wi' all ther might; Then one an' all, both great an' small, March'd on wi' great delight.

The girls an' boys, wi' jovial noise, The fife an' drum did play; For ivvery one wod hev some fun On this eventful day.

Owd Joan o' Sall's wi' all his pals, March'd on wi' all ther ease: Just for a lark, some did remark, "There goes some prime owd cheese!"