Soa cheer up, old la.s.s, &c.

Tho' we've noa pew at th' church, an we sit whear we can, An th' sarmon we dooant understand; An th' sarvice is all ov a new fangled plan, An th' mewsic's suppooased to be grand,-- We can lift up awr hearts when we come hooam at neet, As we sing th' old psalms ovver agean; An tho' old crackt voices dooant saand varry sweet, He knows varry weel what we mean.

Soa cheer up, old la.s.s, Altho' we've grown grey, An we havn't mich bra.s.s, Still awr hearts can be gay; For we've health an contentment, an soa we can say, 'At we're gradely weel off after all.

Is it Reight?

Awm noa radical, liberal nor toory, Awm a plain spokken, hard-workin man; Aw cooart nawther fame, wealth nor glory, But try to do th' best 'at aw can.

But when them who hold lofty positions, Are unmindful of all but thersen,-- An aw know under what hard conditions, Thaasands struggle to prove thersen men, It sets me a thinkin an thinkin, Ther's summat 'at wants setting reight; An wol th' wealthy all seem to be winkin, Leeavin poor fowk to wonder an wait,-- Is it cappin to find one's hooap sickens?

Or at workers should join in a strike?

When they see at distress daily thickens, Till despairin turns into dislike?

Is it strange they should feel discontented, An repine at ther comfortless lot, When they see lux'ry rife in the mansion, An starvation at th' door ov the cot?

Is it reight 'at theas hard-handed workers Should wear aght ther life day bi day, An find 'at th' reward for ther labors Is ten per cent knockt off ther pay?

But we're tell'd 'at we owt to be thankful If we've plenty to ait an to drink; An its sinful to question one's betters,-- We wor sent here to work, net to think.

Then lets try to appear quite contented, For this maathful o' summat to ait; Its for what us poor fowk wor invented,-- But awm blowed if aw think at its reight.

A Yorksher Bite.

Bless all them bonny la.s.ses, I' Yorksher born an bred!

Ther beauty nooan surpa.s.ses, Complete i'th' heart an th' heead.

An th' lads,--tho aw've seen monny lands, Ther equal aw ne'er met; For honest hearts an willin hands, They nivver can be bet.

Aw nivver hold mi heead soa heigh, Or feel sich true delight, As when fowk point me aght an say, "Thear gooas a Yorksher Bite."

Lily's Gooan.

"Well, Robert! what's th' matter! nah mun, Aw see 'at ther's summat nooan sweet; Thi een luk as red as a sun-- Aw saw that across th' width of a street; Aw hope 'at yor Lily's noa war-- Surelee--th' little thing is'nt deead?

Tha wod roor, aw think, if tha dar-- What means ta bi shakin thi heead?

Well, aw see bi thi sorrowful e'e At shoo's gooan, an' aw'm soory, but yet, When youngens like her hap ta dee, They miss troubles as some live to hit.

Tha mun try an' put up wi' thi loss, Tha's been praad o' that child, aw mun say, But give over freatin, becoss It's for th' best if shoo's been taen away."

"A'a! Daniel, it's easy for thee To talk soa, becoss th' loss is'nt thine; But its ommost deeath-blow to me, Shoo wor prized moor nor owt else 'at's mine; An' when aw bethink me shoo's gooan, Mi feelins noa mortal can tell; Mi heart sinks wi' th' weight ov a stooan, An' aw'm capped 'at aw'm livin mysel.

Aw shall think on it wor aw to live To be th' age o' Methusla or moor; Tho' shoo said 'at aw had'nt to grieve, We should booath meet agean, shoo wor sure: An' when shoo'd been dreamin one day, Shoo said shoo could hear th' angels call; But shoo could'nt for th' life goa away Till they call'd for her daddy an' all.

An' as sooin as aw coom thro' my wark, Shoo'd ha' me to sit bi her bed; An' thear aw've watched haars i'th' dark, An' listened to all 'at shoo's said; Shoo's repeated all th' pieces shoo's learnt, When shoo's been ov a Sundy to th' schooil, An ax'd me what dift'rent things meant, Woll aw felt aw wor n.o.bbut a fooill An' when aw've been gloomy an' sad, Shoo's smiled an' taen hold o' mi hand, An whispered, 'yo munnot freat, dad; Aw'm gooin to a happier land; An' aw'll tell Jesus when aw get thear, 'At aw've left yo here waitin his call; An' He'll find yo a place, niver fear, For ther's room up i' heaven for all.'

An' this mornin, when watchin th' sun rise, Shoo said, 'daddy, come nearer to me, Thers a mist comin ovver mi eyes, An' aw find at aw hardly can see.-- Gooid bye!--kiss yor Lily agean,-- Let me pillow mi heead o' yor breast!

Aw feel now aw'm freed thro' mi pain; Then Lily shoo went to her rest."

What aw Want.

Gie me a little humble cot, A bit o' garden graand, Set in some quiet an' sheltered spot, Wi' hills an' trees all raand;

An' if besides mi hooam ther flows A little mumuring rill, At sings sweet music as it gooas, Awst like it better still.

Gie me a wife 'at loves me weel, An' childer two or three, Wi' health to sweeten ivery meal, An' hearts brimful o' glee.

Gie me a chonce, wi' honest toil Mi efforts to engage, Gie me a maister who can smile When forkin aght mi wage.

Gie me a friend 'at aw can trust, 'An tell mi secrets to; One tender-hearted, firm an' just, Who sticks to what is true.

Gie me a pipe to smook at neet, A pint o' hooam-brew'd ale, A faithful dog 'at runs to meet Me wi a waggin tail.

A cat to purr o'th' fender rims, To freeten th' mice away; A cosy bed to rest mi limbs Throo neet to commin day.

Gie me all this, an' aw shall be Content, withaat a daat, But if denied, then let me be Content to live withaat.

For 'tisn't th' wealth one may possess Can purchase pleasures true; For he's th' best chonce o' happiness, Whose wants are small an' few.

Latter Wit.

Awm sittin o' that old stooan seeat, Wheear last aw set wi' thee; It seems long years sin' last we met, Awm sure it must be three.

Awm wond'rin what aw sed or did, Or what aw left undone: 'At made thi hook it, an' get wed, To one tha used to shun.

Aw dooant say awm a handsom chap, Becoss aw know awm net; But if aw wor 'ith' mind to change, He isn't th' chap, aw'll bet.

Awm net a scoller, but aw know A long chawk moor ner him; It couldn't be his knowledge box 'At made thi change thi whim.

He doesn't haddle as mich bra.s.s As aw do ivery wick: An' if he gets a gradely shop, It's seldom he can stick.

An' then agean,--he goes on th' rant; Nah, that aw niver do;-- Aw allus mark misen content, Wi' an odd pint or two.

His brother is a lazy lout,-- His sister's nooan too gooid,-- Ther's net a daycent 'en ith' bunch,-- Vice seems to run ith' blooid.

An yet th'art happy,--soa they say, That caps me moor ner owt!

Tha taks a deal less suitin, la.s.s, Nor iver awst ha' thowt.

Aw saw yo walkin aat one neet, Befoor yo'd getten wed; Aw guess'd what he wor tawkin, tho Aw dooant know what he sed.

But he'd his arm araand thi waist, An tho' thi face wor hid, Aw'll swear aw saw him kuss thi:-- That's what aw niver did.

Aw thowt tha'd order him away, An' mak a fearful row, But tha niver tuk noa nooatice, Just as if tha didn't know.

Awm hawf inclined to think sometimes, Aw've been a trifle soft, Aw happen should a' dun't misen?

Aw've lang'd to do it oft.

Thar't lost to me, but if a chonce Should turn up by-an-by, If aw get seck'd aw'll bet me booits, That isn't t'reason why.