An’ aw think what a glorious Christmas day
      ’twod ha been
   If aw’d gooan to that place where ther’s noa moor cares,
      nor partin, nor sorrow;
An aw knaw they’re thear,
      or that dream aw should niver ha seen,
   But aw’ll try to be patient,
      an’ maybe shoo’ll come fotch me to-morrow.

Billy Bumble’s Bargain.

Young Billy Bumble bowt a pig,
   Soa aw’ve heeard th’ neighbors say;
An’ mony a mile he had to trig
   One sweltin’ summer day;
But Billy didn’t care a fig,
   He said he’d mak it pay;
He knew it wor a bargain,
   An’ he cared net who said nay.

He browt it hooam to Ploo Croft loin,
   But what wor his surprise
To find all th’ neighbors standing aat,
   We oppen maaths an’ eyes;
“By gow!” sed Billy, to hissen,
   “This pig must be a prize!”
An’ th’ wimmen cried, “Gooid gracious fowk! 
   But isn’t it a size?”

Then th’ chaps sed, “Billy, where’s ta been? 
   Whativer has ta browt? 
That surely isn’t crayture, lad,
   Aw heeard ’em say tha’d bowt? 
It luks moor like a donkey,
   Does ta think ’at it con rawt?”
But Billy crack’d his carter’s whip. 
   An’ answered’ em wi’ nowt.

An’ reight enuff it war a pig,
   If all they say is true,
Its length war five foot eight or nine,
   Its height wor four foot two;
An’ when it coom to th’ pig hoil door,
   He couldn’t get it through,
Unless it went daan ov its knees,
   An’ that it wodn’t do.

Then Billy’s mother coomed to help,
   An’ hit it wi’ a mop;
But thear it wor, an’ thear it seem’d
   Detarmined it ’ud stop;
But all at once it gave a grunt,
   An’ oppen’d sich a shop;
An’ finding aat ’at it wor lick’d,
   It laup’d clean ovver th’ top.

His mother then shoo shook her heead,
   An’ pool’d a woeful face;
“William,” shoo sed, “tha shouldn’t bring
   Sich things as theas to th’ place. 
Aw hooap tha art’nt gooin to sink
   Thi mother i’ disgrace;
But if tha buys sich things as thease
   Aw’m feared it will be th’ case!”

“Nah, mother, niver freat.” sed Bill,
   “Its one aw’m goin to feed,
Its rayther long i’th’ legs, aw know,
   But that’s becoss o’th’ breed;
If its a trifle long i’th’ grooin,
   Why hang it! niver heed! 
Aw know its net a beauty,
   But its cheap, it is, indeed!"

“Well time ’ul try,” his mother sed,—­
   An’ time at last did try;
For niver sich a hungry beeast
   Had been fed in a sty. 
“What’s th’ weight o’th’ long legged pig, Billy!”
   Wor th’ neighbors’ daily cry;
“Aw connot tell yo yet,” sed Bill,
   “Aw’ll weigh it bye an’ bye.”

An’ hard poor Billy persevered,
   But all to noa avail,
It swallow’d all th’ mait it could get,
   An’ wod ha’ swallow’d th’ pail;
But Billy took gooid care to stand
   O’th’ tother side o’th’ rail;
But fat it didn’t gain as mich
   As what ’ud greeas its tail.