T'Exl' Heead chaps wi' their girt caps, An' coits nut quite i' t'fashion; Wi' arms ding-dong, they strut along, An' put a famous dash on.

Tom Wilkins dress'd up in his best, T'owd wife put on her fall, Fer they wor bent, what com or went, To dine at Malsis Hall.

Ther wor Tommy Twist among the list, Wi' his magenta snaht; He's often said sin he gat wed, T'owd la.s.s sud hev an aght.

Among the lot wor owd Sam b.u.t.t, As fine as owd Lord Digby; An' owd Queer Doos, wi' his streit shoes, An' wi' him Joseph Rigby.

There's Jimmy Gill, o' Castle Hill,- That gentleman wi' t'stick,- There's Will an' Sam, an' young John Lamb, An' Ben an' Earby d.i.c.k.

I scorn to lie-the reason why It is a shame awm sure!

But among the job wor owd Joe Hob, Behold! a perfect kewer.

I'd quite forgot, among the lot, There too wor Pally Pickles, Wi' crinoline shoo walks so fine, Shoo's like a cat i' p.r.i.c.kles.

Bud to mi tale-aw mussant fail I' owt on this occasion- Wi' heead erect, an' girt respect, We march to Keighley Station.

Nah-all reight fain gat into t'train, Owd Ned began to screeam; Then Master Pratt doft off his hat, An' just pept aght at t'steeam.

This jovial band when they did land, Got off the train so hearty, For they all went, wi' that intent, To hev a grand tea-party!

The country foak did gape an' luke, To see us all delighted, An' ivvery one did say "Begum, Aw wish awd been invited."

'Tis joy to tell, they marched as well As t'Scots did ower the border, Owd Wellington an' all his men Ne'er saw such marchin' order.

The lookers-on, to see them come, Gat on ta t'second storey; Reight dahn the park they did 'em mark, Comin' i' their full glory.

Then to the place each smilin' face, Moved on i' grand succession; The lookers on did say "Well done, It is a grand procession!"

When they'd all pa.s.s'd the hall at last They form'd into a column; Then Jimmy Wreet, wi' all his meet, Gav aght a hymn so solemn:

Then all did raise their voice i' praise, Wi' music in the centre; They sang a hymn i'praise o' Him, 'At is the girt Creator.

That bit bein' done, they all did run, To get a pleasant day in, Some went there, an' some went here, An' t'Bands began o' playin'.

Wi' mich amaze, we all did gaze, Arahnd this splendid park; Then little Jake began to talk, An' thus he did remark:-

"At Morecambe Bay I've been a day, At Bolton Woods an' Ilkley; But Malsis Hall outstrips 'em all, 'At I've seen aght o' Keighley."

The girt park wall arahnd the hall, Majestical does stand; Wi' wavin' trees, an' pleasant breeze, It's like a fairy land.

It fill'd wur eyes wi' gert surprise, To see the fahnten sporting; An' on the top, stuck on a prop, The British flags wor floatin'.

The walks so grand, wi' yellow sand, An' splendid wor the pavin', High over all, arahnd the wall, Wor flags an' banners wavin'.

Nah-some made fun, an' some did run, Owd women they wor singin'- "Do you ken the Moofin Man,"- An' others they wor swingin'.

I' sooth 'twor grand to see this band, a.s.sembled all together; Bud sad to say, that varry day Turn'd aght some shockin' weather.

Bud war ner t'rain, aw mun explain, 'At caus'd a girt disaster, All but one sort o' breead ran short- It wor no fault o' t'maister.

O, Gormanton! thy breead an' bun, An' judgment it wor scanty; Oh, what a shame, an' what a name, For not providing plenty!

Oh, silly clown! thah might hev knawn, To eyt each one wor able; The country air did mak some swear They cud ommost eyt a table.

The atmosphere, no longer clear, The clouds are black an' stormy; Then all but one away did run, Like some desertin' army.

On-on! they go! as if some foe Wor chargin' at the lot!

If they got there, they didn't care A fig for poor Will Scott!

Poor lame owd Will remains theer still, His crutches hes to fetch him; But he's seen t'time, when in his prime, 'At n.o.body theer cud catch him.

Like some fast steed wi' all its speed, All seem'd as they wor flyin'; To escape the rain, an' catch the train, Both owd and young wor tryin'.

One Mat o' Wills, abaght Crosshills, He heeard a fearful hummin', He said ta t'wife, "Upon mi life, Aw think the French are comin'!

Tha knaws reight weel 'at we've heeard tell O' sich strange things afore, So la.s.s luke quick an' cut thi stick, An' I will bolt the door."

Like drahnded rats they pa.s.s owd Mat's, An' ran dahn to the station; Owd Betty Bake an' Sally Shacks Were both plump aght o' patience.

"This is a mess," says little Bess, 'At lives on t'top o' t'garden; "There's my new shawl an' fine lace fall, They'll nut be worth a fardin."

But, hark! ding-dong goes through the throug, The bell does give the sign, Wi' all its force, the iron horse Comes trottin' dahn the line.

Then one by one they all get in, Wet, fatigued, an' weary; The steam does blow, owd Ned doth go, An' we come back so cherry.

Whene'er we roam away fra hooam, No matter wheer or when, In storm or shower, if in wur power, To home, sweet home, we turn!

The Bold Buchaneers.

A Military description of the Second Excursion to Malsis Hall, the Residence of JAMES LUND, Esq.

I remember perusing when I was a boy, The immortal bard Homer-his siege of old Troy, So the Malsis encampment I'll sing if you will, How our brave army "bivoked" on the plains o' Park Hill.

Near the grand Hall o' Malsis our quarters we took, When Lieuteuant-col. Don Frederick spoke, Commanding his aid-de-camp Colonel de Mann, To summons and muster the chiefs o' the clan.

Majors Wood, Lamb, and Pollard came up to the lines, Each marching their companies up to the nines; The twirlers and twisters, the knights of the coal, And spuzzers and sorters fell in at the roll.

The light-infantry captains were Robin and Shack, And the gallant big "benners" the victuals did sack; Captain Green he commanded the Indigo troop, These beer barrel chargers none with them can cope.

The Amazon army led on by Queen Bess, Each feminine soldier so grand was her dress, Though they chatted and pratted, 'twor pleasant to see Them laughing and quaffing their hot rum and tea.

There was music to dainties and music to wine, And for fear of invaders no hearts did repine; Although a dark cloud swept over the plain, Yet our quarter was sheltered from famine and rain.

Drum-Major Ben Rushworth and Bandmaster Wright, Drank to each other with pleasure that night; We'd full-flowing b.u.mpers, we'd music and fun, From the larder and cellar of Field-Marshall Lund.

One Private Tom Berry got into the hall, When a big rump o' beef he made rather small; And Flintergill Billy of the Spuzzer's Brigade, Got his beak in the barrel, and havoc he made.