Yorkshire Lyrics. John Hartley
Noa wonder—aw'st be sad enuff
If aw had sich a lad.
Aw nivver thowt 'at aw could feel
Sich sorrow, or should grieve,
But little Dick is varry sick,
They dunnot think he'll live.
Aw'd nivver nowt agean him!
Aw liked that lad aw'm sure!
Pray God, be merciful, an spare
That lad 'at lives next door.
A Summer Shaar.
It nobbut luks like tother day,
Sin Jane an me first met;
Yet fifty years have rolled away,
But still aw dooant forget.
Th' Sundy schooil wor ovver,
An th' rain wor teemin daan
An shoo had nowt to cover
Her Sundy hat an gaan.
Aw had an umberella,
Quite big enuff for two,
Soa aw made bold to tell her,
Shoo'd be sewer to get weet throo,
Unless shoo'd share it wi' me.
Shoo blushed an sed, "Nay, Ben,
If they should see me wi' thi,
What wod yo're fowk say then?"
"Ne'er heed," says aw, "Tha need'nt care
What other fowk may say;
Ther's room for me an some to spare,
Soa let's start on us way."
Shoo tuk mi arm wi' modest grace,
We booath felt rayther shy;
But then aw'm sewer 'twor noa disgrace,
To keep her new clooas dry.
Aw tried to tawk on different things,
But ivvery thowt aw'd had,
Seem'd to ha flown as if they'd wings,
An left me speechless mad.
But when we gate cloise to her door,
Aw stopt an whispered, "Jane,
Aw'd like to walk wi' thee some moor,
When it doesn't chonce to rain."
Shoo smiled an blushed an sed, "For shame!"
But aw tuk courage then.
Aw cared net if all th' world should blame,
Aw meant to pleas misen,
For shoo wor th' grandest lass i'th' schooil
An th' best—noa matter what;—
Aw should ha been a sackless fooil,
To miss a chonce like that.
Soa oft we met to stroll an tawk,
Noa matter, rain or shine;
An one neet as we tuk a walk,
Aw ax't her to be mine.
Shoo gave consent, an sooin we wed:—
Sin' then we've had full share
Ov rough an smooth, yet still we've led
A life ov little care.
An monny a time aw say to Jane,
If things luk dull an bad;—
Cheer up! tha knows we owe to th' rain
All th' joys o' life we've had.
Awr Lad.
Beautiful babby! Beautiful lad!
Pride o' thi mother and joy o' thi dad!
Full ov sly tricks an sweet winnin ways;—
Two cherry lips whear a smile ivver plays;
Two little een ov heavenly blue—
Wonderinly starin at ivverything new,
Two little cheeks like leaves of a rooas—
An planted between em a wee little nooas.
A chin wi' a dimple 'at tempts one to kiss;—
Nivver wor bonnier babby nor this.
Two little hands 'at are seldom at rest—
Except when asleep in thy snug little nest.
Two little feet 'at are kickin all day,
Up an daan, in an aght, like two kittens at play.
Welcome as dewdrops 'at freshen the flaars,
Soa has thy commin cheered this life ov awrs.
What tha may come to noa mortal can tell;—
We hooap an we pray 'at all may be well.
We've other young taistrels, one, two an three,
But net one ith' bunch is moor welcome nor thee.
Sometimes we are tempted to grummel an freeat,
Becoss we goa short ov what other fowk get.
Poverty sometimes we have as a guest,
But tha needn't fear, tha shall share ov the best.
What are fowks' riches to mother an me?
All they have wodn't buy sich a babby as thee.
Aw wor warned i' mi young days 'at weddin browt woe,
'At labor an worry wod keep a chap low—
'At love aght o' th' winder wod varry sooin flee,
When poverty coom in at th' door—but aw see
Old fowk an old sayins sometimes miss ther mark,
For love shines aght breetest when all raand is dark.
Ther's monny a nobleman, wed an hawf wild,
'At wod give hawf his fortun to have sich a child.
Then why should we envy his wealth an his lands,
Tho' sarvents attend to obey his commands?
For we have the treasures noa riches can buy,
An aw think we can keep 'em—at leeast we can try;
An if it should pleeas Him who orders all things,
To call yo away to rest under His wings—
Tho' to part wod be hard, yet this comfort is giv'n,
We shall know 'at awr treasures are safe up i' Heaven,
Whear no moth an noa rust can corrupt or destroy,
Nor thieves can braik in, nor troubles annoy.
Blessins on thi! wee thing—an whativver thi lot,
Tha'rt promised a mansion, tho' born in a cot,
What fate is befoor thi noa mortal can see,
But Christ coom to call just sich childer as thee.
An this thowt oft cheers me, tho' fortun may fraan,
Tha may yet be a jewel to shine in His craan.
Bonny Mary Ann.
When but a little toddlin thing,
I'th' heather sweet shoo'd play,
An like a fay on truant wing,
Shoo'd rammel far away;
An even butterflees wod come
Her lovely face to scan,
An th' burds wod sing ther sweetest song,
For bonny Mary Ann.
Shoo didn't fade as years flew by,
But added day