an left me bi misen,
An aw swoller'd mi teah in a sniff,
An aw crept up to bed, thear an then,--
For aw knew shoo'd come back in a tiff.

An shoo did, in a few minnits mooar;
An worn't shoo mad? nivver fear!
An th' laader aw reckoned to snooar,
An th' laader shoo skriked i' mi ear.

Tha thowt tha'd put me in a stew,--
But aw treeat sich like conduct wi' scorn!
But tha didn't fooil me, for aw knew,
Shoo'd black een ivver sin shoo wor born.

Shoo can booast ov her een,--that shoo can!
But shoo's nowt at aw envy,--net me!
Unless it's her bavin a man,
Asteead ov a hawbuck like thee.

A Screw Lawse.

When rich fowk are feastin, an poor fowk are grooanin,
Ther's summat 'at connot be reight.
Wol one lot are cheerin, another lot's mooanin
For want ov sufficient to ait.
Ther must be a screw lawse i'th' social machine,
An if left to goa on varry long,
Ther'll as sewer be a smash as befoortime ther's been,
When gross wrangs ov thooas waik mak em strong.
Discontent may long smolder, but aght it'll burst,
In a flame 'at ther efforts will mock;
An they'll leearn when too lat, 'at they've met the just fate,
Ov thooas who rob th' poor o' ther jock.

A Sad Mishap.

"Come, John lad, tell me what's to do,
Tha luks soa glum an sad;
Is it becoss tha'rt short o' brass?
Or are ta poorly, lad?
Has sombdy been findin fault,
Wi' owt tha's sed or done?
Or are ta bothered wi' thi loom,
Wi' th' warp tha's just begun?

Whativver 'tis, lad, let me know,--
Aw'll help thi if aw can;
Sometimes a woman's ready wit
Is useful to a man.
Tha allus let me share thi joys,--
Let's share when grief prevails;
Tha knows tha sed aw should, John,
I'th' front o'th' alter rails.

We've just been wed a year, lad,
Come Sundy next but three;
But if tha sulks an willn't spaik,
Aw'st think tha'rt stawld o' me.
Aw've done mi best aw'm sewer, John,
To be a wife to thee;
Come tell me what's to do, John,
Wol aw caar o' thi knee."

----------

"Aw've brass enuff to pay mi way,--
Aw'm hearty as needs be;--
Ther's noabdy been findin fault,
An aw'm nooan stawl'd o' thee.
But aw'm soa mad aw connot bide,--
For commin hooam to-neet,
Mi pipe slipt throo between mi teeth,
An smashed to bits i'th' street.
Aw cant think what aw could be doin,
To let the blam'd thing drop!
An a'a! it wor a beauty,
An colored reight to th' top."