Brave Johnny’s rooad wor up a loin
   Where all wor dark an’ shaded,
Part grass, part stooans, part sludge an’ slime
   But quickly on he waded;
An’ nah an’ then he cast his e’e
   An luk’d behund his shoulder. 
He worn’t timid, noa net he! 
   He crack’d, “he knew few bolder.”

But once he jumped, an’ said “Oh dear!”
   Becoss a beetle past him,
But still he wor unknown to fear,
   He’d tell yo if yo asked him;
He couldn’t help for whispering once,
   This loin’s a varry long un,
A chap wod have but little chonce
   Wi thieves, if here amang em.

An’ all at once he heeard a voice
   Cry out, “Stand and deliver! 
Your money or your life, mak choice,
   Before your brains I shiver;”
He luk’d all raand, but failed to see
   A sign of livin craytur,
Then tremlin dropt upon his knee,
   Fear stamp’d on ivery faytur.

“Gooid chap,” he said, “mi rifle tak,
   Mi belts, mi ammunition,
Aw’ve nowt but th’ clooas at’s o’ mi back
   Oh pity mi condition;
Aw wish aw’d had a lot o’ brass,
   Aw’d gie thi ivery fardin;
Aw’m nobbut goin to meet a lass,
   At Tate’s berry garden.”

“Aw wish shoo wor, aw daoant care where,
   Its her fault aw’ve to suffer;”
Just then a whisper in his ear
   Said, “Johnny, thar’t a duffer,”
He luk’d, an’ thear claise to him stuck
   Wor Jenny, burst wi’ lafter;
“A’a, John,” shoo says, “Aw’ve tried thi pluck,
   Aw’st think o’ this at after.”

“An when tha tells what thinga tha’ll do,
   An’ booasts o’ manly courage,
Aw’st tell thi then, as nah aw do,
   Go hooam an’ get thi porrige.” 
“Why Jenny wor it thee,” he said
   “Aw fancied aw could spy thi,
Aw nobbut reckoned to be flaid,
   Aw did it but to trie thi.”

“Just soa,” shoo says, “but certain ’tis
   Aw hear thi heart a beatin,
An’ tak this claat to wipe thi phiz
   Gooid gracious, ha tha’rt sweeatin;
Thar’t brave noa daat, an’ tha can crow
   Like booastin cock-a-doodle,
But nooan sich men for me, aw vow,
   When wed, aw’ll wed a ‘noodle.’

Lost Love.

Shoo wor a bonny, bonny lass
   Her een as black as sloas,
Her hair a flying’ thunner claad,
   Her cheeks a blowing rooas;
Her smile coom like a sunny gleam
   Her cherry lips to curl;
Her voice wor like a murm’ring stream
   At flowed through banks o’ pearl.

Aw long’d to claim her for mi own,
But nah mi love is crost;
An aw mun wander on alooan,
An’ mourn for her aw’ve lost.

Aw couldn’t ax her to be mine,
   Wi’ poverty at th’ door: 
Aw niver thowt breet een could shine
   Wi’ love for one so poor;
But nah ther’s summat i’ mi breast,
   Tells me aw miss’d mi way: 
An’ lost that lass I loved th’ best
   Throo fear shoo’d say me nay.

      Aw long’d to claim her for, &c,