Chapter III (2)

'Hangin be hanged! yo've been just as deep i'th' muck as they've been i'th' mire, an' if awd my way awd hang yo all. But aw say, luk here, aw dooant want to be made a laffin-stock on, an soa if yo'll promise niver to mention this affair, maybe aw shall do summat for' em yet, an' if anybody axes owt abaat it, say it wor done wi' my consent.'

They all promised, an' as they wor leeavin Joa sed, 'gooid mornin fayther, yo mun come up an' see _awr_ Bessy as oft as yo can, we'll mak yo welcome.'

'Joa tha'rt a scaandrel if iver ther wor one, an' thee Bess, see at tha behaves thisen, an let' em see at tha hasn't been brought up wi' extravagant ways; save a penny wheariver tha can, th' time may come when yo'll need it. Here's a bit o' summat to start wi',' he sed, an' gave her an old bacca box an' shut th' door.

They all laffed, an' as they wor goin up th' street Joa oppen'd th' box, an' inside wor a little bit o' paper, an' written on it thease words. 'For Bessy's wedding if she weds with my consent.' They all luk'd curiously to see what wor in it as he slowly oppen'd it, an they could hardly believe ther een when they saw a Bank o' England note for L500.

Well, yo may think ha capt Joa's mother wor when shoo saw him come in wi' Bessy on his arm, for it wor nobbut th' neet befoor 'at he'd goan aght cooartin, an' when he saw her he sed, 'Well, mother, yo sed aw wor gooin cracked, an' sin' aw saw yo aw've been cracked an' getten spliced, an' aw've browt yo a dowter; an' as aw've axed some friends o' mine to come to ther drinkin, yo mun side all them tubs an' buy some rum, an' let us have some rum an' teah, an' owt else yo can get us, for we want a gooid blowout. An' wol yo do that, Bessy an' me 'll goa to bed a bit, for we've been up all th' neet an' awm sure shoo must be sleepy.'

'Nay awm nooan sleepy Joa, thee goa to bed an' aw'll help thi mother.'

'That's reight lass,' sed his mother, 'aw mak nowt o' fowk sleepin i'th' day time, thee help me an' tak noa notice o' him, he isn't reight in his heead, aw cannot tell ha iver he caanselled thee to have him.'

'Nah mother, dooant yo interfere between a man an' his wife; yo forget at aw've had my heead smashed sin aw saw yo, an' aw want a bit o' rest.'

'Thee goa to bed an' get all th' rest tha wants, tha'll sleep better bi thisen 'coss tha'rt moor used to it, an' aw'll see at Bessy doesn't run away.'

'But, mother, yo see'--

'Aw see nowt abaat it, an' unless tha clears aght o' this hoil ther'll nawther be rum an' teah nor nowt else! Bless mi life lad! does ta think at ther wor niver onybody wed afoor thee? tha'rt war nor a child wi' a new laikon.'

Joa saw it wor noa use tawkin, soa he went aght to feed his donkey, an' luk after th' pigs an' poultry, an' mak believe he wor iver soa thrang.

At last drinkin time coom, an' a few friends coom up, an' a jolly time they had. Joa luk'd joyous an' Bessy luk'd bonny, an' just befoor they separated for th' neet an' wor all standin up to drink long life an' prosperity to th' newly married couple, th' door oppen'd an' in coom owd Stooansnatch. 'Well,' he sed, 'awm just i' time,' soa seizing hold ov a glass o' rum he says here's a toast;

'May thease young ens to-day has seen joined,
Find all th' pleasure ther hearts are now cravin;
An' when spendin my brass may they find,
As mich pleasure as aw fun i' savin.'

Ov coorse this tooast wor drunk i' bumpers, an' sooin after they brake up, an' all went to ther hooams.

Joa an' Bessy seem to get on varry weel together; an Joa's mother says 'at all shoo wants to mak her happy is to be a granmother.

Stooansnatch seems to be altered famously sin Bessy gate wed, an' it is sed (but for th' truth on it aw willn't pledge misen), 'at one day he gave a little lad a penny to buy spice wi'. If its true, he isn't past hooap yet.

He spends th' mooast ov his time up at Joa's, but he's niver had a pooaker in his hand sin that neet, an' if yo want to see him mad, just say a word abaat hangin.

Th' New Railrooad.

Yo've heeard tell abaat th new railrooad aw dar say? It's an age o' steeam is this! Smook nuisance and boilers brustin are ivery-day affairs, an' ivery thing an' ivery body seem to be on at full speed. Aw wonder 'at noabdy invents a man wi a drivin pulley at his back soa's they could speed him up as they do a loom to soa mony picks a minit; th' chap 'at get's a patent for that ul mak a fortune.

But after all, they dooant seem in a varry gurt hurry abaat th' new railroad; but we mun remember Rome wor'nt built in a day, nor a neet nawther, an' soa we mun have patience. They've nobbut been agate two or three year, an' although it's hardly likely at' we shall live to see it finished, happen somedy else will, an' that's a comfort. But bi what aw hear, ther's some fowk at Ovenden fancy it'll be finished befoor soa varry long, an' they've started what they call "a railway trainin class," to taich some oth' young chaps to be railway porters, soa's they'll be ready when th' time comes. They meet in a cottage haase twice a wick to practice, an' they say they're gettin on furst rate. Ther's owd Billy 'at wor once a firer-up for a veal pie shop, an' he's th' president, an he's getten th' asthma soa bad wol if he sturs he puffs war nor a broken winded horse, soa they call him puffin Billy. When they're practisin', they stand o'th' side o'th' oven door i' ther turns, an' when Billy whistles one on 'em oppens it an' shaats aght "Change here for Bradford Beck, Halifax, Hull and t'other shops!" then he bangs it too ageean an shaats "All reight!" an another comes an' does th' same. When they began at th' furst they borrowed a Tom cat o' th' old woman, an' used to put it i' th' oven for a passenger, but one o'th' chaps wor soa fussy, 'at he bang'd th' door too befoor it had getten reight aght, an' chopped its tail clean off. Niver mind if th' owd woman didn't mak a crack--shoo declared shoo'd sue' em for condemnation. Billy tell'd her it ud be a Manx cat after that, but shoo sooin tell'd him shoo wanted nooan sich lik manx; soa they have to tak ther lessons nah withaat passenger. Two on 'em 'at's passed ther examination are studdyin nah for ticket collectors, an' they promise to mak varry gooid uns. When they practise that, they call th' haase door th' furst class, th' cubbord th' second class, an' th' oven door th' third class, an' they start at th' haase door furst, "Gentlemen, your tickets please," then they goa to th' cubbord door, "Tickets," an' then to th' oven door, "Nah then, luk sharp wi' them tickets."

But they'd a sad mishap one neet, for it seems th' owd woman had been bakin, and shoo forgate to mention it, soa when th' furst chap gate hold o' th' oven door hannel he burn'd his fingers, an' becos tother students lafft he sed they'd done it o' purpose; an' it led to a reglar fratch, an' he gate into sich a rage 'at he sed he'd swallow one on em, if he did'nt hold his din, an' it wod'nt be th' furst porter he'd swallow'd nawther! Soa th' taicher tell'd him 'at sich like carryin on wor varry unporterish, an' if he brake th' rules that way he'd have to be taken before th' inspector. But nowt could quieten him till he gate his fingers rubb'd wi sooap an' they gave ovver smartin, soa as th' oven door wor hot they had to practice another pairt. One on 'em borrowed a wheelbarrow, as they could'nt get a luggage lurry, an' they had to wheel it up an' daan th' haase floor i' ther turns, callin aght "By leave!" An' them 'at could manage to run ovver one o' th' tother's tooas, an' goa on as if nowt wor, gate one gooid mark, but him at could run buzz agean a chap an' fell him wor th' next on th' list for a guard. It used to be warm wark boath for him at wor wheelin' an' for tothers, but they wor all on 'em bent o' bein' porters, soa they tew'd at it, detarmined to maister all th' ins an' aghts abaat it. Whether all ther trouble will be thrown away or net aw connot tell, but ther's one gooid thing, it keeps' em aght ov a war turn an' saves th' police a deal o' bother.

But th' owd fowk dooant like th' idea; they see noa use i' bringin sich gurt stinkin things into their district, an' they've detarmined to do all they con to stop it; when a body's been able to live 60 or 70 year withaat sich like nonsense, they see noa reason why they shouldn't be let finish their bit o' time aght quietly. Ther wor one young lad went to ax his gronfayther if he mud join th' class, an' th' owd chap went varry near into a fit, he luk'd at him for a minit, an' then he says,

A'a, Johnny! a'a, Johnny! aw'm sooary for thee!
But come thi ways to me, an' sit o' mi knee.
For it's shockin' to hearken to th' words 'at tha says;--
Ther wor nooan sich like things i' thi gronfayther's days.

When aw wor a lad, lads wor lads, tha knows, then,
But nahdays they owt to be 'shamed o' thersen;
For they smook, an' they drink, an' get other bad ways;
Things wor different once i'thi gronfayther's days.

Aw remember th' furst day aw went coortin' a bit,
An' walked aght thi gronny;--awst niver forget;
For we blushed wol us faces wor all in a blaze;--
It wor nooa sin to blush i' thi gronfayther's days.

Ther's nooa lasses nah, John, 'at's fit to be wed;
They've false teeth i' ther maath, an' false hair o' ther heead:
They're a make-up o' buckram, an' waddin', an' stays,
But a lass wor a lass i' thi gronfayther's days.

At that time a tradesman dealt fairly wi th' poor,
But nah a fair dealer can't keep oppen th' door;
He's a fooil if he fails, he's a scamp if he pays;
Ther wor honest men lived i' thi gronfayther's days.

Ther's chimleys an' factrys i' ivery nook nah,
But ther's varry few left 'at con fodder a caah;
An' ther's telegraff poles all o'th' edge o'th' highways,
Whear grew bonny green trees i' thi gronfayther's days.

We're teld to be thankful for blessin's 'ats sent,
An' aw hooap 'at tha'll allus be blessed wi content:
Tha mun mak th' best tha con o' this world wol tha stays,
But aw wish tha'd been born i' thi gronfayther's days.

Mose Hart's Twelvth Mess.

'Holloa! whear ta for, Dick? Tha'rt donned up fearful grand.'

'Nay, aw nobbut wish aw knew whear aw wor, but aw connot tell for th' life on me; but tha can happen put me into th' end, for awm seekin "Th' Fiddle Brig an' Blow Pipe Music Saloon," for aw've getten two tickets for a grand consart 'at's gooin to be gien bi some Morpheus Musical Society, an' aw've rammel'd abaat for a gooid clock haar, an' awm blow'd if aw can find th' shop.'

'Why, if tha's getten two tickets tha mud as weel gie me one, an' aw'll goa hooam an' get donned, an' we'st be company.'

'Bith' heart, lad, aw wish tha wod; aw dooant care bein my share towards a quairt if tha'll goa, but awm feeard we'st be lat; doesn't ta think them clooas tha has on'll do?'

'Nay, tha sees mi britches knee is brussen.'

'Ne'er heed, aw'l leearn thi mi kerchy, an' then as sooin as tha's getten set daan tha can spreead it ovver thi knees, an' nobdy'll iver know owt abaat it.'

'Well, if tha doesn't mind aw dooant, for a chap had better have a hoil in his clooas nor a hoil in his karracter, soa let's try to find this place. Sithee! what does that sign say 'at's hingin' aght o' th' charmer winder?'

'Nay, Seth, tha knows awm noa reader, an' besides aw havn't mi specks, but what does ta mak it into?'

'Well, ther's a Hess, an' a Hay, an' a Hell, an' two Hoes, an' a Hen, what does that spell?'

'Nay, aw connot tell, but it'll nooan be what we want awm sewer o' that, for thear's noa hens abaat thear.'

'Ha hens, lumpheead! It's th' letter N aw sed.'

'Litter hen! why aw nivver heeard o' sich o' thing; aw've heeard o' pigs havin litters but nivver hens, we call 'em cletches.'

'Tha gets less sense, Dick, ivvery day, aw do think. Doesn't ta understand? Ther's a Hess, an' a Hay, an' a Hell, an' two Hoes, an' a Hen, an' that spells saloon, or else aw've forgetten my algibra.'

'Well, well, happen it does; tha's noa need to get soa cross-grained abaat it; if tha goes on like that aw'll gie th' ticket to somdy else, nah mark that.'

'Tha can gie it to who the duce tha's a mind, Dick; awm nawther beholden to thee nor to thi ticket, soa crack that nut!'

'Well, tha's noa need to be soa chuff. Here's th' ticket an' mi kerchy, an' nah tha con follow clois to me an' we'll goa up stairs. Aw con hear some mewsic bi nah, come on.'

Just as they oppened th' door all th' singers wor standin up to begin.

'Dooant stand up for th' sake o' us,' sed Dick, 'get on wi' yer mewsic, we can caar daan onywhear.' Iverybody laff'd when Dick sed soa, an' as they didn't know what they wor laffin at they thowt it wor at Seth's britches.

'Yo've noa need to laff,' sed Seth, 'aw've some better at hooam.'

'Silence! silence!' bawled aght a lot o' fowk; an' when all wor quiet, th' chap at th' far end began shakkin a bit ov a stick 'at he had, an' Seth sed, 'Tha's noa need to shak thi stick at me,' but what he sed beside wor lost, for all th' singers struck up, an' Dick an' Seth set daan o' th' edge ov a big drum 'at ther wor in th' nook. In a bit Seth axed th' chap 'at set next to him what they wor singin.

'It's Mozart's Twelfth Mass,' he sed.

'Why, what dooant they turn him aght for?'

'Turn who aght?' sed th' chap lukkin raand.

'Why, Mose Hart. If he worked at awr shop he'd be secked for one mess, niver tawk abaat twelve.'

'Whisht!' sed th' chap, an' gave Seth a drive wi' his elbow just between his brace buttons, an' Seth went daan wi' a soss onto th' drum end, an' throo it he went wi' a crack as laad as a pistol gooin off.

'Thear, tha's done it,' sed Dick; 'Tha's letten all th' mewsic aght o' that, onyway; they owt to ha made a drum major o' thee.'

'It's noa fawt o' mine,' he sed, as he tried to scramel aght. 'Let me catch hold o' that chap' at knocked th' wind aght o' me, an' if aw dooant drum him it'll be becoss aw connot.'

When he gate to his feet he luk'd raand, but th' chap had mizel'd, but all th' singers wor standin raand laffin fit to split.

'Are yo laffin becoss mi britches knees is brussen or becose th' drum end's brussen, aw'd like to know?'

'What's th' matter wi' thi? tha'rt as mad as if tha'd swoller'd th' drum asteead o'th' drum swollerin thee; tha mud ha getten thi bally brussen,' sed Dick.

'It's very plain to me that there will be no more harmony here this ev'ning,' sed th' little man 'at wor shakkin th' stick, 'and so I shall leave you, an' I hope those who have tickets to dispose of, will in future give them to persons who can appreciate music.'

'Aw'll mak thee sick for two pins,' sed Seth, 'if tha says owt agean me, aw'll sing thee for glasses raand ony day.'

The conductor sed no more but went home.

'Who is yond leckterin fooil?' sed Seth, to a chap 'at stood near.

'That's th' conductor.'

'Corn doctor, is he? Why, what does he want at a singing doo? Connot yo cut yor own corns?'

'Tha doesn't understand, he's th' leeader.'

'Well, if he's th' leeader, what dooant yo follow him for? But nah luk here! aw'll tell yo what aw'll do. Aw've been th' cause o' braikin up yor spree, soa suppoas yo all stop an' have a bit ov a doo wi' me; aw've getten a shillin or two an' we'll send for some ale an' mak a reglar free-an-easy on it.'

'Hear! hear!' sed one.

'Ov course we'll have it here, whear else does ta want it!' Soa they all agreed to sit daan, and Seth sent for two gallon o' ale an' some bacca, an' nooan on 'em seemed to be sooary 'at things had turned aght as they had.

When they'd all had a second tot, an' getten ther pipes let, they made Seth into th' cheerman, an' he sed they'd have to excuse him for net knowin ther names, but when he wanted to call anybody up he'd do his best to mak 'em understand who he meant, an' to begin wi, he should mak bould to ax that chap wi' th' big nooas to sing a song.

Nubdy stirred, soa Seth pointed him aght an' sed, 'Will that chap wi' th' red peg i'th' middle ov his face oblige the company with a song?'

Th' chap couldn't mistak who wor meant this time, so he gate up.

'Mister cheerman,' he sed, 'aw doant know 'at my nooas owes yo or onybody else owt, an' why it should be remarked aw can't tell.'

'Aw should think it owes thee a gooid deal,' sed th' cheerman. 'If tha doesn't want it to be remarked tha shouldn't paint it sich a bright colour; but get on wi' th' singing.'

'Awm noa singer, aw play a offerclyde, but awm thinkin' o' changin, an' leearnin th' fiddle.'

'That's reight, lad, do. Awm sure it'll tak all th' wind tha has to blow that peg o' thine i' cold weather; a fiddle 'll suit thee better, an' tha'll niver be fast for a spot to hing up thi stick. But it's a song we want, an' not a speech, an' if tha doesn't sing tha'll be fined a quairt.'

That settled it; soa, clearin his voice, he began--

Tho' the sober shake the head,
And drink water, boys, instead,
And the foolish all strong liquors do decry;
Yet the foaming glass for me,
May we never, never see
A friend without a draught when dry.

Then quaff, boys, quaff, and let's be merry;
Why should dull care be crowned a king?
Let us have another drain, till the night begins to wane,
And the bonny, bonny morn peeps in.

Let us drown each selfish soul
Deep in the flowing bowl;
Let the rosy god of wine take the throne;
And he who cannot boast
Some good humour in his toast,
Let him wander in the world alone.
Then quaff, boys, &c.

O, I love a jolly face,
And I love a pretty lass,
And I love to see the young and old around;
Then with frolic and with fun
Let both wine and moments run,
And the hearty, hearty laugh resound.
Then quaff, boys, &c.

When man was placed on earth
He was naked at his birth,
But God a robe of reason round him threw;
First he learned to blow his nose,
Then he learned to make his clothes,
And then he learned to bake and brew.
Then, quaff, boys, &c.

If it's wrong to press the vine--
Thus to make the rosy wine,
Then it must be wrong to crush the wheaten grain;
But we'll laugh such things to scorn,
And although it's coming morn,
Just join me in another drain.
Then quaff, boys, &c.

'E'e gow, lad! that's a rare song. Aw'll say nowt noa moor abaat thy nooas after that, but tha munnot sing that amang teetotallers. It's thy call nah, let's keep it movin, call for who or what tha likes.'

'Well, if awm to call, aw shall call th' landlord to fill this pitcher, for this pipe o' mine's varry dry.'

'All reight, lad, order it to be filled, aw'll pay for it, an wol they're fotchin it call o' somdy for a song or summat.'

'Well, aw call o'th' cheerman for a song.'

'Nay, lad, tha munnot call o' me, for if awd to start ony mak ov mewsic aw should niver get throo it.'

'Yo went throo th' drum easy enuff,' said one.

'Eea, an' he brag'd he could sing better ner awr conductor,' sed another.

'Nah chaps, aw'll do my best to mak it a pleasant neet, an' as th' ale has just come up aw'll give yo a tooast an' a sentiment booath i' one.'

Hold up yer heads, tho' at poor workin men
Simple rich ens may laff an' may scorn;
May be they ne'er haddled ther riches thersen,
Somdy else lived afoor they wor born,
As noble a heart may be fun in a man
'At's a poor fusten coit for his best,
An 'at knows he mun work or else he mun clam,
As yo'll find i' one mich better drest.

Soa, here's to all th' workers wheariver they be,
I'th' land, or i'th' loom, or i'th' saddle;
And the dule tak all them 'at wod mak us less free,
Or rob us o'th' wages we haddle.

'Them's just my sentiment,' sed one o'th' singers, 'an' aw dooant care who hears me say it, for aw dooant care whether a chap's coit is aght o'th' elbows or his britches knees brussen, noa matter if he's----'

'Thee shut up,' sed Seth, 'it's my call next, an' aw want thee to know, owd fiddle-face, 'at tha can give ovver talking abaat fowks clooas, an' sing as sooin an tha likes.'

'Mr. Cheerman, aw nobbut know one, but as sooin as aw've supt aw'll start, shove th' ale this rooad.'

'Get supt then, it taks more bother to start thee singin nor what it taks to start th' Dyke Engin.'

All kinds of songs I've heard folks sing,
Of things in every nation;
Of Queen's Road swells, and Clarehall belles,
And every new sensation.
But I've a song you never heard,
Although the music's ancient;
It's all about one Doctor Bird,
And his fascinating patient.
So list to me
And I'll tell you all the story of this Doctor B.

One day he sat within his room,
By draughts and pills surrounded;
Strange pictures hanging on the walls
Which timid folks confounded.
He heard the bell, and strange to tell,
He quickly changed his manner,
And in there came his bosom's flame
His darling Mary Hannah.
So list to me, &c.

'Sweet Mary Hannah!' 'Doctor dear'--
Such was their salutation;
'I've come,' sed she, 'for much I fear,
I've got the palpitation.'
'O never mind,' says Doctor B.,
'You need not long endure it;
Just come a little nearer me,
I fancy I can cure it.'
But list to me, &c.

He took a loving, long embrace,
Cries she, 'Oh, dear, that's shocking!'
When the doctor's boy, to mar their joy,
Just entered without knocking.
And when he saw the state o' things,
Then down the stairs he hurried,
And ran to tell the Doctor's wife,--
For Doctor B. was married.
So list to me, &c.

The Doctor seized his hat and cane,
And cried, 'Dear Mary, hook it!'
Then down he ran, and found a cab,
And in an instant took it--
'Drive for your life and fetch my wife,
And need no second telling!'
And in a very little time
They reached the Doctor's dwelling.
So list to me, &c.

His wife was there, said he, 'My dear
Come with me to the city,
I'm lonely when you are not near,'
Says she, 'Why that's a pity.'
He took her to the self same room,
And in the self same manner;
He kissed and coaxed his lawful wife,
As he'd just kissed Mary Hannah.
So list to me, &c.

In loving talk some time they spent,
Says she, 'now I'll go shopping;'
He kissed her and as out she went,
The Doctor's boy came hopping;
He saw her and he quickly cried,
'O, please excuse me missus,
But Doctor's got a girl inside,
And he's smothering her with kisses.
So list to me, &c.

'You little sneaking cur,' she cried,
'That shows that you've been peeping.'
She boxed his ears from side to side
And quickly sent him weeping.
The Doctor rubbed his hands and smiled,
To think how well he'd plan'd it,
And Mrs. B.'s quite reconciled,
But the boy don't understand it.
So you all see
What a very cunning fellow was this Doctor B.

Now all you married men so gay,
Just listen to my moral;
Indulge your wives in every way,
And thus avoid a quarrel.
Pray do your best to settle down,
Nor with the fair ones frisk it;
You might not fare like Doctor B.,
It isn't safe to risk it.
For you can see
How very near in trouble was this Doctor B.

'Is that th' only song tha knows young man?'

'That's all aw know, Mr. Cheerman.'

'Why, tak my advice an' forget it as sooin as tha can, for aw niver heeard a war, an' see if tha cannot find a better. Nah tha can call for th' next.'

'Well, aw'll call o' owd Miles, an' if he con do ony better aw'll pay for th' next gallon.'

Old Miles stood up, an' crossed his hands i' front an turned up his een as if he wor gooin to relate his experience at a prayer-meetin, an' began:

They may talk of pure love but its fleeting at best;
Let them ridicule gold if they will;
But money's the thing that has long stood the test,
And is longed for and sought after still.
Love must kick the balance against a full purse,
And you'll find if you live to four score,
That whativer your troubles the heaviest curse,
Is to drag on your life and be poor.

If you sigh after titles and long for high rank,
Let this be your aim night and day,
To increase the small balance you have at your bank,
And to honors' 't will soon point the way.
For you'll find that men bow to the glittering dross,
Whate'er its possessor may be;
And if obstacles rise they will help you across,
If you only can boast L. s. d.

See that poor man in rags, bending under his load,
He passes unnoticed along:
No one lends him a hand as he goes on his road,
He must toil as he can through the throng.
But if he was wealthy, how many would fly
To assist him and offer the hand;
But he's poor, so they leave him to toil or to die,
That's the rule in this Christian land.

'Nah, that's summat like a song; aw could lizzen to that all th' neet, an' aw think yo'll all agree 'at owd fiddle face has lost his gallon. Nah, lad, does ta hear? Tak to payin.'

But he didn't hear, for he'd quietly slipped away an' left 'em wi' a empty pitcher. 'Well, he's a mean owd stick, onyway; but aw'll pay for it fillin once moor. An' nah, Miles, it's yor turn to call.'

'Mr. Cheerman, aw'll call o' yor friend for th' next.'

'A'a, lad,' sed Dick, 'tha should pass by me, for aw niver sang a song i' mi life, an' awm to old to start, but if yo've noa objections aw'll give yo a recitation.'

'Gooid lad, Dick, goa on! Tha'rt gam, aw know.'

Ov all th' enjoyments' at sweeten man's life,
Ther's nooan can come up to a sweet tempered wife;
An' he must be lonesome, an' have little pleasure,
'At doesn't possess sich a woman to treasure.
But them 'at expect when they tak hooam a bride,
'At nowt nobbut sunshine wi' them will abide,
An' think 'at noa sorrow will iver oppress,
They'll find ther mistak aght, yo'll easily guess.
For th' mooast fascinatin an' lovable elves,
Are all on 'em mortal, just th' same as ussels,
An' show tempers 'at sometimes are net ovver pleasant,
They find fault whear ther's room, an' sometimes whear ther isn't,
An' to get there own way, why they'll kiss, coax, or cavil,
They'll smile like an angel, or storm like the devil.
But aw've monny times sed, an' aw say it ageean,
'At women are ofter i'th' reight nor are th' men,
Just fancy gooin hooam to a bachelor's bed,
All shudderin an' shakkin yo lig daan yor heead.
There's a summat a wantin, 'at fills yo wi' fear,
Yo can turn as yo like, but you find it's not thear,
An' yo freeat an' yo fitter, or weep like a willow;
An' for want o' owt better, mak love to a pillow.
But him 'at's been blessed wi' a wife he can love,
Liggs his heead on her breast pure as snow from above,
An' ther's nubdy could buy it for silver or gold,
An' he wodn't exchange it for Abrahams of old.
An' he falls hard asleep, wi' her arm raand his neck,
An' gets up lik a lark, an' then works like a brick.

'Nah, friends, aw wish to say a few words befoor aw goa. Awm varry sorry 'at aw brack that drum, but yo see it wor an accident, an' aw've done my best to mak it up, an' as Dick's recitation maks me think awd better be gettin hooam, or aw shall happen find it varry warm when aw get thear. Aw'll nobbut call o' one moor befoor sayin gooid neet, an' that's Mose Hart. If he's hear aw should like him to try agean; ther's nowt like perseverance, an' if a chap fails twelve times th' thirteenth may pay for all.'

'Mr. Cheerman, Mozart wor deead long befoor yo wor born or thowt on.'

'Then that chap 'at dug his elbow into my guts tell'd me a lie, for he sed he'd just made a mess for th' twelfth time when aw come in.'

Ther wor a crack o' laffin when he sed that, for th' chaps saw his mistak, an' soa one on 'em went quietly up to him an' explained it. 'O, then,' he sed, 'if he's deead we may as weel goa hooam, an' all aw've getten to say is 'at ony time yo chonce to come by awr haase, just luk in an' aw'll mak yo welcome, an' my owd lass'll mak yo a mess o' some sooart 'at'll do yo some gooid. Yo'll find it easy, for aw live th' next door to th' Pig an' Whistle, an' soa aw wish yo all a varry gooid neet--Come on Dick.'

Th' Hoil-i'th'-Hill Statty.