Bonny Yorksher.

Bonny Yorksher! how aw love thi!

Hard an rugged tho' thi face is; Ther's an honest air abaat thi, Aw ne'er find i' other places.

Ther's a music i' thi lingo, Spreeads a charm o'er hill an valley, As a drop ov Yorksher stingo Warms an cheers a body's bally.

Ther's noa pooasies 'at smell sweeter, Nor thy modest moorland blossom, Th' violet's een ne'er shone aght breeter Nor on thy green mossy bosom.

Hillsides deckt wi' purple heather, Guard thy dales, whear plenty dwellin Hand i' hand wi' Peace, together Tales ov sweet contentment tellin.

On the scroll ov fame an glory, Names ov Yorksher heroes glisten; History tells noa grander stooary, An it thrills me as aw listen.

Young men blest wi' brain an muscle, Swarm i' village, taan an city, Nah as then prepared to tussle, Wi' the brave, the wise, the witty.

An thy la.s.ses,--faithful,--peerless,-- Matchless i' ther bloom an beauty,-- Modest, lovin, brave an fearless, Praad ov Hooam an firm to Duty.

Aw've met nooan i' other places Can a cannle hold beside 'em; Rich i' charms an winnin graces;-- Aw should know becoss aw've tried 'em.

Balmy breezes, blow yer mildest!

Sun an shaars yer blessins shed!

Thrush an blackburd pipe yor wildest Skylarks trill heigh ovverheead!

Robin redbreast,--little linnet, Sing yor little songs wi' glee; Till wi' melody each minnit, Makin vocal bush an tree.

Wild flaars don yer breetest dresses, Breathe sweet scents on ivvery gale; Stately trees wave heigh yer tresses, Flingin charms o'er hill an dale.

Dew fall gently,--an sweet Luna, Keep thy lovin watch till morn;-- All unite to bless an prosper, That dear spot whear aw wor born.

Sixty an Sixteen.

We're older nor we used to be, But that's noa reason why We owt to mope i' misery, An whine an grooan an sigh.

We've had awr shares o' ups an daans, I' this world's whirligig; An for its favors or its fraans We needn't care a fig.

Let them, at's enterin on life Be worried wi' its cares; We've tasted booath its joys an strife, They're welcome nah to theirs.

To tak things easy owt to be An old man's futer plan, Till th' time comes when he has to dee,-- Then dee as weel's he can.

It's foolish nah to brood an freeat, Abaat what might ha been; At sixty we dooant see wi' th' een, We saw wi at sixteen.

Young shoolders worn't meant to bear Old heeads, an nivver will; Youth had its fling when we wor thear, An soa it will have still.

Aw wodn't live life o'er agean, Unless 'at aw could start Quite free throo knowledge o' this world, Quite free in heead an heart.

That perfect trust 'at childer have, Gives life its greatest charm; Noa wisdom after years can give, Will keep ther hearts as warm.

When nearin th' bottom o' life's hill, If we, when lukkin back, Can see some seeds ov gooid we've sown, Are bloomin on awr track;

Wol th' evil deeds we did shall be All trampled aght o' seet; Awr journey's end will peaceful be, An deeath itsen be sweet.

Then let's give thanks for mercies past, That've kept awr hearts still green; For thar't just as dear at sixty, la.s.s, As when tha wor sixteen.

Come thi Ways in.

Come thi ways in, an G.o.d bless thi, lad!

Come thi ways in, for thar't welcome, joy!

A'a! tha'rt a shockin young taistrel, lad, But tha artn't as bad as they call thi, doy.

Tha'rt thi father upheeaped an daanthrussen, lad, It's his mother 'at knows what a glaid wor he;-- But thi britches' knees are booath brussen, lad, An thi jacket, its raillee a shame to see.

It's weel for thee tha's a gronny, lad,-- If it wornt for me tha'd be lost i' muck!

Tha'rt wild, but tha'rt better ner monny, lad, An aw think 'at tha'll yet bring thi gronny gooid luck.

Nah, pool up to th' table an dry thi nooas;-- (Awd nooan leearn mi app.r.o.n to onny but thee,) Wol tha'rt fillin thi belly aw'll patch up thi clooas, Then aw'll send thi hooam daycent an cleean tha'll see.

Nah, what are ta dooin wi' th' p.u.s.s.y cat, pray?

If tha'll leeav it alooan it'll mell nooan o' thee, Put th' mustard spooin daan! Does ta hear what aw say!

Let goa that cat tail! Ha tha aggravates me!

Tha mooant dip thi finger i'th' traitle pot, doy, (Tho' aw reckon tha follers th' example tha's set,) Mothers, nah days, dooan't know ha to train childer, joy, But tha'll heed what thi gronny says,--willn't ta, pet?

A'a, dear! nah tha's upset thi basin o' stew!

All ovver thisen an mi cleean scarrd flooar:-- Tha clumsy young imp; what next will ta do?

Tha'd wear aght job's patience, an twice as mich mooar!

Hold thi din! or aw'll gie thi a taste o' that strap!

Tha maks it noa better wi' yellin like that!

Come, whisht nah,--'twor n.o.bbut a little mishap;-- Nah, whisht,--an tha'll see ha we'll leather yond cat.

Nah, dooan't touch mi thimel or needle an threead; Sit daan like a gooid little child as tha art; Wol aw wipe up this mess, an side th' b.u.t.ter an breead, Then aw'll gie thi a penny to buy thi a tart.

For tha puts me i' mind ov a time long ago, When thi father wor just sich a jockey as thee; An tho' aw'm a widdy, an poor as a crow, Ther'll be allus a bite an a sup for thee.

Tak thi booits off that fender! Tha's made it fair black; Just see ha tha's scratched it! Aw'm sewer it's a sin!

Jump into theas clooas an fly hooam in a crack, Or aw'll braik ivvery booan 'at tha has i' thi skin!

An stop hooam, until tha knows ha to behave, Tha'd worrit my life aght i' less nor a wick!

Tell thi mother aw'm net gooin to be just a slave To a taistrel like thee! soa nah, off tha gooas--Quick!

Horton Tide.

Wor yo ivver at Horton Tide?

It wor thear 'at aw won mi bride; An the joy o' mi life, Is mi dear little wife, An we've three little childer beside.

Aw wor donn'd in a new suit o'clooas, A cigar wor stuck under mi nooas, Aw set aght for a spree, An some frolics to see, Full o' fun throo mi heead to mi tooas.

Aw met Lijah an Amos, an Bill, An ov coorse wi' each one aw'd a gill; Till aw felt rayther mazy, But net at all crazy, For aw didn't goa in for mi fill.

As a lad aw'd been bashful an shy, An aw blushed if a woman went by, But this day bi gooid luck, Aw felt chock full o' pluck, Soa to leet on aw sattled to try.