las!
'Twor them 'at troubled t'parish, John,
Sud hev no Feffee Brass.

"An' nah, if tha will be so kind,
Go let mi trustees knaw
'At I sall be oblidg'd to them
To null that little flaw.

"An' will ta meushun this an' all,
Wal tha's an interview?--
Tell 'em to share t'moast brass to t'poor,
Whativver else they do.

"Then I sall rest an' be at peace,
Both here an' when i' Heaven;
When them 'at need it will rejoice
Fer t'bit o' brass I've given;

"An' tell 'em to remember thee
Upon t'next Feffee Day!"
I says--"I sallant get a meg,
I'm gettin' parish pay."

So when shoo'd spokken what shoo thowt,
An' tell'd me what to do,
I ax'd her if shoo'd harken me,
Wal I just said a word or two.

"I'll nut tell you one word o' lie,
As sure as my name's John;
I think at you are quite i' t'mist
Abaht things going on.

"Folks gether in fra far an' near,
When it is Feffee Day,
An' think they hev another lowse,
Wi' t'little bit o' pay.

"Asteead o' givin' t'brass to t'poor,
It's shocking fer to tell,
They'll hardly let 'em into t'door--
I knaw it bi misell.

"Asteead o' bein' a peck o' malt
Fer t'wimmen liggin' in,
It's geen to rascals ower-grown,
To drink i' rum an' gin.

"Then them at is--I understand--
What you may call trustees;
They hev ther favourites, you knaw,
An' gives to who they please.

"Some's nowt to do but shew ther face,
An' skrew ther maath awry;
An' t'brass is shuvv'd into ther hand,
As they are passin' by.

"There's monny a woman I knaw weel,
Boath middle-aged and owd,
'At's waited fer ther bit o' brass,
An' catch'd ther deeath o' cowd;

"Wol mony a knave wi' lots o' brass
Hes cum i' all his pride,
An' t'flunkeys, fer to let him pass,
Hes push'd t'poor folk aside.

"Fra Bradford, Leeds, an' Halifax,
If they've a claim, they come;
But what wi' t'railway fares an' drink,
It's done bi they get hooam.

"Wol mony a poorer family
'At's nut been named i' t'list,
Reight weel desarves a share o' t'spoil,
But, thenk ye, they are miss'd.

"We see a man at hes a haase,
Or happen two or three,
They 'Mister' him, an' hand him aght
Five times as mitch as me.

"'Twor better if yo'd teed yer brass
Tight up i' sum owd seck,
An' getten t'Corporation brooms,
To sweep it into t'beck."

No longer like Capia's form,
Wi' a tear i' both her een,
But like the gallant Camilla,
The Vols