It’s a varry’ gooid world that we live in
   To lend, or to spend, or to give in;—­
   But to beg, or to borrow, or get a man’s own,
   It’s th’ varry worst world ’at iver wor known.

Hi, an’ its th’ best ’at iver wor known yet; an haiver mich fowk may say agean it, awve allus nooatised at’ ther’s varry few seem inclined to part wi’ it.

A Hawporth.

Whear is thi’ Daddy doy?  Whear is thi’ mam? 
What are ta cryin for, poor little lamb? 
Dry up thi peepies, pet, wipe thi wet face;
Tears o’ thy little cheeks seem aat ’o place. 
What do they call thi, lad?  Tell me thi name;
Have they been ooinion thi?  Why, its a shame. 
Here, tak this hawpny, an’ buy thi some spice,
Rocksticks or humbugs or summat ’at’s nice. 
Then run of hooam agean, fast as tha can;
Thear,—­thart all reight agean; run like a man.

He wiped up his tears wi his little white brat,
An’ he tried to say summat, aw couldn’t tell what;
But his little face breeten’d wi’ pleasure all throo:—­
A’a!—­its cappin, sometimes, what a hawpny can do.

Buttermilk &c.

May is the month for Buttermilk!  A doctor once tell’d me it wor worth a guinea a pint; he sed it licked cod liver oil, castor oil; or paraffin oil.  Castor oil, he said, war varry gooid for ther bowels, cod liver oil for ther liver, an’ paraffin oil for ther leets (whear they’d noa gas), but buttermilk wor better nor all three put together, an’ he ad vised me to tak it.  “Why,” aw sed; “what’s th’ use o’. me takkin it when aw dooant ail owt?” “Ther’s noa tellin’ ha sooin yo may,” he said, “an’ an it’s a varry simple remedy, yo’d better tak it whether yo do or net.”  “Reight enuff,” aw sed, “simple things sometimes do th’ best.  Aw once knew a woman ’at had been confined to her bed for twelve year, an’ her husband cured her in a minit, after all th’ doctors at th’ infirmary had gien her up.”  Th’ doctor pricked his ears when aw sed soa, an’ wanted to know all abaat it, soa aw at it an’ tell’d him.  “Sally an’ her husband lived at th’ Arred Well, but he oft used to goa as far as th’ Coit Hill ova neet to have a pint an’ enjoy an haar or two i’ company, an’ when he gate haoam he used to catch it, an’ finely too, aw con assure yo, for altho shood ligg’d i’ bed soa long, shoo had’nt lost th’ use ov her tongue, an’ her felly said ‘at shoo hadn’t lost th’ use ov her teeth nawther, for shoo could ait as weel as iver shoo could.  One neet as he wor gooin hooam, he bethowt him he’d try a bit ov a dodge on, for although he felt varry sooary for his wife, yet he could’nt help thinkin’ it wor partly consait at shoo’d suffer’d throo; soa when he gate in, shoo began a blowin’ into him i’ fine style.  ‘Th’ owd time, lad!  It shows what tha cares for me!  Aw hav’nt had a wick soul to spaik to sin tha went aat, but it’s all one to thee!  Tha’ll come hooam some time an’ find me ligg’d deead, an’ then tha can spree abaat throo morm