ah an then,
Just when it has suited mi whim;
But aw'm foorced to admit to misen,
At aw've leearned far mooar lessons throo him.
He may have noa soul to be saved,
An when life ends i' this world he's done;
But aw wish aw could say aw'd behaved
Hawf as weel, when my life's journey's run.

Yo may call it a fooilish consait,--
But to me he's soa faithful an dear,
'At whativver mi futer estate,
Aw'st feel looansum if Dick isn't thear.
But if foorced to part, once for all,
An his carcase to worms aw mun give,
His mem'ry aw oft shall recall,
For he nivver can dee wol aw live.

Warmin Pan.

That old warmin pan wi' it's raand, brazzen face,
Has hung thear for monny a day;
'Twor mi Gronny's, an th' haase wodn't luk like th' same place,
If we tuk th' owd utensil away.

We ne'er use it nah,--but aw recollect th' time,
When at neet it wor filled wi' red cowks;
An ivvery bed gate weel warmed, except mine,
For they sed it wornt meant for young fowks.

When old Gronny deed, t'wornt mich shoo possest,
An mi mother coom in for all th' lot;
An shoo raised up a duzzen, misen amang th' rest,
An shoo lived wol shoo deed i'th' same cot.

Aw'm th' maister here nah, but aw see plain enuff,
Things willn't goa long on th' old plan;
Th' young ens turn up ther nooases at old-fashioned stuff,
An mak gam o' mi old warmin pan.

But aw luk at it oft as it glimmers i'th' leet,
An aw seem to live ovver once mooar;
Them days when mi futer wor all seemin breet,
An aw thowt nowt but joy wor i' stooar.

Aw'm summat like th' pan, aw've aght lasted mi day,
An aw'st sooin get mi nooatice to flit;
But aw've this consolation,--aw think aw may say,
Aw'st leeav some 'at aw've warmed up a bit.

It may be Soa.

This world's made up ov leet an shade,
But some things strange aw mark;
One class live all on th' sunny side,
Wol others dwell i'th' dark.
Wor it intended some should grooap,
Battlin with th' world o' care,
Wol others full ov joy an hooap
Have happiness to spare?

It may be soa,--aw'll net contend,
Opinions should be free;--
Aw'm nobbut spaikin as a friend,--
But it seems that way to me.

Should one class wear ther lives away,
To mak another great;
Wol all their share will hardly pay,
For grub enuff to ait?
An is it reight at some should dress
I' clooas bedeckt wi' gold,
Wol others havn't rags enuff,
To keep ther