k to thi lass tha left here.

Though tha did walk Leweezy to th' church,
An fowk wink'd an dropt monny a hint,
Aw knew tha'd nooan leav me i'th lurch,
For a dowdy like her wi a squint.
An Ellen at lives at th' yard end,
May simper an innocent look,
But aw think shoo'll ha' farther to fend,
Befoor shoo's a fish to her hook.

Nay, jaylussy's aght o' my line,
Or else that young widdy next door,
Wod ha heeard some opinions o' mine,
At wodn't quite suit her awm sewer.
What tha can see in her caps me,
For awm sewer shoo's as faal as old Flue,
An aw think when shoo's tawkin to thee,
Shoo mud find surnmat better to do.

'Shoo's a varry nice lass,' does ta say?
'An luks looansum tha thinks?' oh! that's it!
Tha'd better set off reight away,
An try to console her a bit.
Shoo's a two-faced deceitful young freet!
Aw wish shoo wor teed raand thi neck!
But goa to her an tell her to-neet,
At Nancy has given thi th' seck.

Awm nooan jaylus! aw ammot that fond!
Aw think far too mich o' mysen
To care for sich a poucement as yond,
At hankers for other fowk's men!
Aw tell thi aw'll net hold mi tongue!
Awm nooan jaylus tha madlin! it's thee!*
An aw allus shall trust thee as long
As tha nooatices nubdy but me."

Lamentin' an Repentin'.

Awst be better when spring comes, aw think,
But aw feel varry sickly an waik,
Awve noa relish for mait nor for drink,
An awm ommost too weary to laik.

What's to come on us all aw can't tell,
For we havn't a shillin put by;
Ther's nowt left to pop nor to sell,
An aw cannot get trust if aw try.

My wife has to turn aght to wark,
An th' little uns all do a share;
An they're tewin throo dayleet to dark,
To keep me sittin here i' mi chair.

It doesn't luk long sin that day
When Bessy wor stood bi mi side;
An shoo promised to love an obey,
An me to protect an provide.

Shoo wor th' bonniest lass i' all th' taan,
An fowk sed as they saw us that day,
When we coom aght o' th' church, arm i' arm,
Shoo wor throwin' hersen reight away.

But shoo smiled i' mi face as we went,
An her arm clung moor tightly to mine;
"Aw feel happy," shoo sed, "an content
To know at tha'rt mine an awm thine."

Aw wor praad ov her bonny breet een,--
Aw wor praad ov her little white hand,--
An aw thowt shoo wor fit for a queen,
For ther wornt a grander ith' land.

We gat on varry weel for a bit,
An aw stuck