Aw’ve a rare lump o’ beef on a dish,
   We’ve some bacon ‘at’s hung up o’ th’ thack,
We’ve as mich gooid spike-cake as we wish,
   An’ wi’ currens its varry near black;
We’ve a barrel o’ gooid hooam brewed drink,
   We’ve a pack o’ flaar reared agean th’ clock,
We’ve a load o’ puttates under th’ sink,
   So we’re pretty weel off as to jock. 
Aw’m soa fain aw can’t tell whear to bide,
   But the cause aw dar hardly let aat;
It suits me moor nor all else beside;
   Aw’ve a paand ‘at th’ wife knows nowt abaat.

Aw can nah have a spree to misel? 
   Aw can treat mi old mates wi’ a glass;
An’ aw sha’nt ha’ to come home an’ tell
   My old lass, ha’ aw’ve shut all mi brass. 
Some fowk say, when a chap’s getten wed,
   He should nivver keep owt thro’ his wife;
If he does awve oft heard ’at it’s sed,
   ‘At it’s sure to breed trouble an’ strife;
If it does aw’m net baan to throw up,
   Tho’ aw’d mich rayther get on withaat;
But who wodn’t risk a blow up,
   For a paand ‘at th’ wife knows nowt abaat.

Aw hid it i’ th’ coil hoil last neet,
   For fear it dropt aat o’ mi fob,
Coss aw knew, if shoo happened to see ’t,
   At mi frolic wod prove a done job. 
But aw’ll gladden mi een wi’ its face,
   To mak sure at its safe in its nick;—­
But aw’m blest if ther’s owt left i’ th’ place! 
   Why, its hook’d it as sure as aw’m wick. 
Whear its gooan to’s a puzzle to me,
   An’ who’s taen it aw connot mak aat,
For it connot be th’ wife, coss you see
   It’s a paand ’at shoo knew nowt abaat.

But thear shoo is, peepin’ off th’ side,
   An’ aw see’at shoo’s all on a grin;
To chait her aw’ve monny a time tried,
   But I think it’s nah time to give in. 
A chap may be deep as a well,
   But a woman’s his maister when done;
He may chuckle and flatter hissel,
   But he’ll wakken to find at shoo’s won. 
It’s a rayther unpleasant affair,
   Yet it’s better it’s happened noa daat;
Aw’st be fain to come in for a share
   O’ that paand at th’ wife knows all abaat.

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 brass
   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.