As aw wandered abaat along th' street, Who, ov all i' this world should aw meet!

But Mary o' Jooas, Lukkin red as a rooas, A'a! but shoo wor bonny an sweet.

Aw nodded an walked bi her side, To mak misen pleasant aw tried, But shoo smiled as shoo sed, 'Aw wor wrang i' mi heead,'

An aw'm sewer aw dooan't think 'at shoo lied.

Then aw bowt her some parkin an spice, An owt else 'at shoo fancied lukt nice, Then we tuk a short walk, An we had a long tawk; Then aw axt if shoo thowt we should splice.

What happen'd at after yo'll guess,-- It wor heaven to me, an nowt less;-- For aw left Horton Tide, Wi' a promised fair bride, Soa mi frolic wor craand wi' success.

For shoo's one i' ten thaasand yo see; An shoo shows 'at shoo's suited wi' me, An yo chaps 'at want wives 'At will gladden yer lives, Up at Horton yo'll find 'em to be.

Mi Old Slippers.

Aw'm wearily trudgin throo mire an weet, For aw've finished another day's wark; An welcome to me is that flickerin leet, 'At shines throo mi winder i'th' dark.

Aw know ther's mi drinkin just ready o'th' hob, An a hearthstun as cleean as can be, For that old wife o' mine allus maks it her job, To have ivverything gradely for me.

It isn't mich time aw can spend wi' th' old la.s.s, For aw'm tewin throo early till lat, An its all aw can do just to get as mich bra.s.s As we need, an sometimes hardly that.

But we keep aght o' debt, soa mi heart's allus leet, An aw sweeten mi wark wi' a song; An we try to mak th' best ov what trubbles we meet, An contentedly struggle along.

Two trusty old friends anent th' foir are set, They are waitin thear ivvery neet; They're n.o.bbut a pair o' old slippers, but yet, They give comfort an rest to mi feet.

Like misen an mi wife, they're fast wearin away,-- They've been shabby for monny a year; They have been a hansum pair once, aw can say, Yet to me they wor nivver mooar dear.

Aw hooap they may last wol aw'm summon'd away, An this life's journey peacefully ends; For to part wod feel hard, for at this time o'th' day, It's too lat to be makkin new friends.

Aw know varry weel 'at ther end must be near, For aw see ha they're worn daan at th' heel; But they've sarved me reight weel, an aw'st ha nowt to fear, If aw've sarved His purpose as weel

A Friend to Me.

Poor d.i.c.k nah sleeps quietly, his labor is done, Deeath shut off his steam tother day; His engine, long active, has made its last run, An his boiler nah falls to decay.

Maybe he'd his faults, but he'd vartues as well, An tho' dearly he loved a gooid spree; If he did onny harm it wor done to hissel:-- He wor allus a gooid friend to me.

His heart it wor tender,--his purse it wor free, To a friend or a stranger i' need; An noa matter ha humble or poor they might be, At his booard they wor welcome to feed.

Wi' his pipe an his gla.s.s bi his foirside he'd sit, Yet some fowk wi' him couldn't agree, An tho' monny's the time 'at we've differed a bit, He wor allus a gooid friend to me.

His word wor his bond, for he hated a lie, An sickophants doubly despised; He wor ne'er know to cringe to a rich fly-bi-sky, It wor worth an net wealth 'at he prized.

Aw shall ne'er meet another soa honest an true, As aw write ther's a tear i' mi ee; Nah he's gooan to his rest, an aw'll give him his due,-- He wor allus a gooid friend to me.

A Pair o' Black Een.

One neet as aw trudged throo mi wark, Thinks aw, nah mi labor is done, Aw feel just inclined for a lark, For its long sin aw had onny fun.

An ov coorse awd mi wife i' mi mind, Shoo's a hot en, but then, what bi that!

For when on a spree aw'm inclined, Aw could nivver get on baght awr Mat.

Sally s.l.u.t wor a croney o' hers, A bonny an warm-hearted la.s.s, An shoo'd latly been wed to a chap, 'At could booast booath some brains an some bra.s.s.

But someha, awr Mat seemed to think, 'At Sally, soa hansum an trim; For a partner throo life owt to luk Wi' somdy mich better nor him.

An shoo profiside trubble an care, Wor i' stoor at noa far distant day, An shoo muttered "poor Sal, aw declare, Tha's thrown thisen reight cleean away."

As sooin as aw gate hold o'th' sneck, Aw walked in wi' a sorrowful face, Then aw sank like a hawf empty seck Into th' furst seeat aw coom to i'th' place.

"Gooid gracious, alive! What's to do?"

Says Matty, "whativver's amiss?"

"A'a, la.s.s! tha'll nooan think at its true,-- It's a tarrible come-off is this,"

"Tha knows Sally s.l.u.t,--A'a dear me!

To-day as aw went across th' green, Aw met her,--an what should aw see,-- Why, shoo'd getten a pair o' black een,"

"That scamp! But aw'll sattle wi' him!"

Says Mat, as shoo threw on her shawl,-- "Aw warned her agean weddin Tim,-- But aw'll let him see;--sharply an all!"

Off shoo flew an left me bi misen, An aw swoller'd mi teah in a sniff, An aw crept up to bed, thear an then,-- For aw knew shoo'd come back in a tiff.

An shoo did, in a few minnits mooar; An worn't shoo mad? nivver fear!

An th' laader aw reckoned to snooar, An th' laader shoo skriked i' mi ear.

Tha thowt tha'd put me in a stew,-- But aw treeat sich like conduct wi' scorn!

But tha didn't fooil me, for aw knew, Shoo'd black een ivver sin shoo wor born.

Shoo can booast ov her een,--that shoo can!

But shoo's nowt at aw envy,--net me!

Unless it's her bavin a man, Asteead ov a hawbuck like thee.

A Screw Lawse.

When rich fowk are feastin, an poor fowk are grooanin, Ther's summat 'at connot be reight.

Wol one lot are cheerin, another lot's mooanin For want ov sufficient to ait.

Ther must be a screw lawse i'th' social machine, An if left to goa on varry long, Ther'll as sewer be a smash as befoortime ther's been, When gross wrangs ov thooas waik mak em strong.

Discontent may long smolder, but aght it'll burst, In a flame 'at ther efforts will mock; An they'll leearn when too lat, 'at they've met the just fate, Ov thooas who rob th' poor o' ther jock.

A Sad Mishap.

"Come, John lad, tell me what's to do, Tha luks soa glum an sad; Is it becoss tha'rt short o' bra.s.s?

Or are ta poorly, lad?