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 la.s.s 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' la.s.ses,--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 la.s.s, Tho we havn't mich bra.s.s, 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 la.s.s, Tho we havn't mich bra.s.s, 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' la.s.ses 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 pa.s.s, When awd lost mi little la.s.s, But nah we'll have a gla.s.s, 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.