Yorkshire Ditties, First Series eBook

John Hartley (poet)
This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 64 pages of information about Yorkshire Ditties, First Series.

But at last he finds courage to spaik,
An’ he tells him they call him poor Joa;
‘At his mother is sickly an’ waik;
An’ his father went deead long ago;

An’ he’s th’ only one able to work
Aght o’ four; an’ he does what he can,
Thro’ early at morn till it’s dark: 
An’ he hopes ’at he’ll sooin be a man.

An’ he tells him his mother’s last word,
As he starts for his labour for th’ day,
Is to put ’all his trust in the Lord,
An’ He’ll net send him empty away.—­

See that man! nah he’s wipin his een,
An’ he gives him that bright piece o’ gowd;
An’ th’ lad sees i’ that image o’th Queen
What ‘ll keep his poor mother thro’ th’ cowd.

An’ mony a time too, after then,
Did that gentleman tak up his stand
At that crossing an’ watch for hissen
The work ov that little black hand.

An’ when-years had gone by, he expressed
‘At i’th’ spite ov all th’ taichin he’d had,
An’ all th’ lessons he’d leearn’d, that wor th’ best
’At wor towt by that poor little lad.

Tho’ the proud an’ the wealthy may prate,
An’ booast o’ ther riches and land,
Some o’th’ laadest ul sink second-rate
To that lad with his little black hand.

Lilly’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,

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