Yorkshire Lyrics. John Hartley
But ther's one thing aw know they can't muster—
That's a lad hawf as grand as awr Dooad.
For his face is like lillies an rooases,
An his limbs sich as seldom are seen;
An just like his father's his nooas is,
An he's getten his mother's blue een.
Soa th' lord an his lady are welcome,
To mak all they like o' ther brat;
They may hap him i' silk an i' velvet—
He's net a bit better for that.
I' life's race they'll meet all sooarts o' weather,
But if they start fair on th' same rooad,
They may run pratty nearly together, But aw'll bet two to one on awr Dooad.
Whear Natur Missed it.
As Rueben wor smookin his pipe tother neet,
Bi th' corner o'th' little "Slip Inn;"
He spied some fowk marchin, an fancied he heeard
A varry queer sooart ov a din.
As nearer they coom he sed, "Bless mi life!
What means all this hullaballoo?
If they dooant stop that din they'll sewer get run in,
An just sarve 'em reight if they do."
But as they approached, he saw wi' surprise,
They seemed a respectable lot;
An th' hymn at they sung he'd net heeard for soa long,
Wol he felt fairly rooited to th' spot.
I'th' front wor a woman who walked backards rooad,
Beatin time wi' a big umberel,
An he sed, "Well, aw'll bet, that licks all aw've seen yet,
What they'll do next noa mortal can tell."
On they coom like a flood, an shoo saw Rueben stood—
An her een seemed fair blazin wi' leet;
"Halt!" shoo cried, an shoo went an varry sooin sent
Rueben's pipe flyin off into th' street.
"Young man," shoo began, "if yo had been born
To smoke that old pipe, then insteead,
Ov a nice crop o' hair Natur wod a put thear
A chimly at top o' thi heead."
Rueben felt rather mad, for 'twor all th' pipe he had,
An he sed, "Well, that happen mud be;
But aw'm nobbut human, an thee bein a woman
Has proved a salvation to thee.
If a chap had done that aw'd ha knocked him daan flat,
But wi' yo its a different thing;
But aw'm thinkin someha, th' same law will allaa
Me too smook, at allaas yo to sing."
Shoo gloored in his face an went back to her place,
As shoo gave him a witherin luk;
An swung her umbrel—ovverbalanced, an fell
An ligg'd sprawlin her length amang th' muck.
All her army seemed dumb, an th' chap wi' th' big drum,
Turned a bulnex, an let on her chest;
Wol th' fiddles an flute wor ivvery one mute,
An th' tamborines tuk a short rest.
Then Rueben drew near, an he sed in her ear,
As he lifted her onto her feet;
"Sometimes its as wise when we start to advise,
To be mindful we're net indiscreet.
If yo'd been intended to walk backardsway,
To save yo from gettin that bump,
Dame Natur, in kindness, aw'll ventur to say,
Wod ha planted a e'e i' yor bustle."
That's All.
Mi hair is besprinkled wi' gray,
An mi face has grown wrinkled an wan;—
They say ivvery dog has his day,
An noa daat its th' same way wi a man.
Aw know at mi day is nah passed,
An life's twileet is all at remains;
An neet's drawin near varry fast—
An will end all mi troubles an pains.
Aw can see misen, nah, as a lad,
Full ov mischief an frolic an fun;—
An aw see what fine chonces aw had,
An regret lots o' things at aw've done.
Thowtless deeds—unkind words—selfish gains—
Time wasted, an more things beside,
But th' saddest thowt ivver remains—
What aw could ha done, if aw'd but tried.
Aw've had a fair share ov life's joys,
An aw've nivver known th' want ov a meal;
Aw've ne'er laiked wi' luxuries' toys,
Nor suffered what starvin fowk feel.
But aw'm moor discontented to-day,
When mi memory carries me back,
To know what aw've gethered is clay,
Wol diamonds wor strewed on mi track.
Aw can't begin ovver agean,
(Maybe its as weel as it is,)
Soa aw'm waitin for th' life 'at's to be,
For ther's nowt to be praad on i' this.
When deeath comes, as sewerly it will,
An aw'm foorced to respond to his call;
Fowk'll say, if they think on me still—
"Well, he lived—an that's abaat all."
Mary Hanner's Peanner.
When aw cooarted Mary Hanner,
Aw wor young an varry shy;
An shoo used to play th' peanner
Wol aw sheepishly sat by.
Aw lang'd to tell her summat,
But aw railly hadn't th' pluck,
Tho' monny a time aw started,
Yet, somha aw allus stuck.
Aw'm sewer shoo must ha guess'd it,
But shoo nivver gave a sign;
Shoo drummed at that peanner;—
A'a! aw wish it had been mine!
Aw'd ha chopt it into matchwood—
Aw'd ha punced it into th' street,
It wor awful aggravatin,
For shoo thumpt it ivvery neet.
Aw'd getten ommost sickened,
When one day another chap
Aw saw thear, an he'd getten
Mary Hanner on his lap.
Aw didn't stop to argyfy—
But fell'd him like an ox;
An Mary Hanner tried to fly
On top o'th' music box.
But he wor gam—an sich a job
Aw'd nivver had befor,