Yorkshire Ditties, First Series eBook

John Hartley (poet)
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 100 pages of information about Yorkshire Ditties, First Series.

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As aw hurried throo th’ taan to mi wark,
   (Aw wur lat, for all th’ whistles had gooan,)
Aw happen’d to hear a remark,
   ‘At ud fotch tears throo th’ heart ov a stooan—­
It wur raanin, an’ snawin, and cowd,
   An’ th’ flagstoans wur covered wi’ muck,
An’ th’ east wind booath whistled an’ howl’d,
   It saanded like nowt but ill luck;
When two little lads, donn’d i’ rags,
   Baght stockins or shoes o’ ther feet,
Coom trapesin away ower th’ flags,
   Booath on ’em sodden’d wi th’ weet.—­
Th’ owdest mud happen be ten,
   Th’ young en be hauf on’t,—­noa moor;
As aw luk’d on, aw sed to misen,
   God help fowk this weather ’at’s poor! 
Th’ big en sam’d summat off th’ graand,
   An’ aw luk’d just to see what ’t could be;
’Twur a few wizend flaars he’d faand,
   An’ they seem’d to ha fill’d him wi glee: 
An’ he sed, “Come on, Billy, may be
   We shall find summat else by an by,
An’ if net, tha mun share thease wi me
   When we get to some spot where its dry.” 
Leet-hearted they trotted away,
   An’ aw follow’d, coss ‘twur i’ mi rooad;
But aw thowt awd nee’er seen sich a day—­
   It worn’t fit ta be aght for a tooad. 
Sooin th’ big en agean slipt away,
   An’ sam’d summat else aght o’th’ muck,
An’ he cried aght, “Luk here, Bill! to-day
   Arn’t we blest wi’ a seet o’ gooid luck? 
Here’s a apple! an’ th’ mooast on it’s saand: 
   What’s rotten aw’ll throw into th’ street—­
Worn’t it gooid to ligg thear to be faand? 
   Nah booath on us con have a treat.” 
Soa he wiped it, an’ rubb’d it, an’ then
   Sed, Billy, “thee bite off a bit;
If tha hasn’t been lucky thisen
   Tha shall share wi’ me sich as aw get.” 
Soa th’ little en bate off a touch,
   T’other’s face beamed wi’ pleasur all throo,
An’ he said, “Nay, tha hasn’t taen much,
   Bite agean, an’ bite bigger; nah do!”
Aw waited to hear nowt noa moor,—­
   Thinks aw, thear’s a lesson for me! 
Tha’s a heart i’ thi breast, if tha’rt poor: 
   Th’ world wur richer wi’ moor sich as thee! 
Tuppince wur all th’ brass aw had,
   An’ awd ment it for ale when coom nooin,
But aw thowt aw’ll goa give it yond lad,
   He desarves it for what he’s been dooin;
Soa aw sed, “Lad, here’s tuppince for thee,
   For thi sen,”—­an’ they stared like two geese,
But he sed, woll th’ tear stood in his e’e,
   “Nah, it’ll just be a penny a piece.” 
“God bless thi! do just as tha will,
   An’ may better days speedily come;
Tho’ clam’d, an’ hauf donn’d, mi lad, still
   Tha’rt a deal nearer Heaven nur some.”

To th’ Swallow

Bonny burd! aw’m fain to see thee,
   For tha tells ov breeter weather;
But aw connot quite forgi thee,
   Connot love thee altogether.

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Yorkshire Ditties, First Series from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.