en forced to drop it,
'At tha'll do a bit for me.

Are ta maddled mun amang it?
Does ta wonder what aw mean?
Aw should think tha does, but dang it,
Where's ta been to leearn to scream?

That's noa sooart o' mewsic, bless thi,
Dunnot peawt thi lip like that;
Mun, aw hardly dar to nurse thi,
Feared awst hurt thi, little brat.

Come, aw'll tak thi to thi mother,
Shoo's more used to sich nor me,
Hands like mine worn't made to bother
Wi sich ginger-breead as thee.

Innocent an' helpless craytur,
All soa pure an' undefiled,
If ther's ought belangs to heaven,
Lives o'th' earth, it is a child.

An' its hard to think 'at someday,
If tha'rt spared to weather throo,
'At tha'll be a man, an' someway
Have to feight life's battles too.

Kings an' Queens, an' lords an' ladies,
Once wor nowt noa moor to see,
An' th' warst wretch at hung o'th' gallows,
Once wor born as pure as thee.

An' what tha at last may come to,
God aboon us all can tell;
But aw hope 'at tha'll be lucky,
Even tho aw fail mysel.

Do aw ooin thi? its a pity,
Hush! nah prathi dunnot freat;
Goa an' snoozle to thi titty,
Tha'rt too young for trouble yet.

Th' Traitle Sop.

Once in a little country taan
A grocer kept a shop,
And sell'd amang his other things,
Prime traitle-drink and pop;

Teah, coffee, currans, spenish juice,
Soft soap an' paader blue,
Presarves an' pickles, cinnamon,
Allspice an' pepper too.

An' hoasts o' other sooarts o' stuff
To sell to sich as came,
As figs, an' raisens, salt an' spice,
Too numerous to name.

One summer's day a waggon stood
Just opposite his door;
An' th' childer all gaped raand as if
They'd ne'er seen one afoor.

An' in it wor a traitle cask,
It wor a wopper too,
To get it aght they all wor fast
Which iver way to do.

But wol they stood an' parley'd thear,
Th' horse gave a sudden chuck,
An' aght it flew, an' bursting threw
All th' traitle into th' muck.

Then th' childer laff'd an' clapp'd their hands,
To them it seem'd rare fun;
But th' grocer ommost lost his wits
When he saw th' traitle run.

He stamp'd an' raved, an' then declared
He wodn't pay a meg!
An' th' carter vow'd until he did
He wodn't stir a peg.

He said he'd done his business reight,--
He'd brought it up to th' door,
An' thear it wor, an' noa fair chap
Wod want him to do moor.

But wol they stamped, an' raved, an' swore,
An' vented aght ther spleen,
T