in a woman.

Natty Nancy.

"Mooar fowk get wed nor what do weel,"
A've heeard mi mother say;
But mooast young lads an lasses too,
Think just th' contrary way.
An lasses mooar nor lads it seems,
To wed seem nivver flaid;
For nowt they seem to dreead as mich
As deein an old maid.
But oft for single life they sigh,
An net withaat a cause,
When wi' ther tongue they've teed a knot,
Ther teeth's too waik to lawse.
Days arn't allus weddin days,
They leearn that to ther sorrow,
When panics come an th' brass gets done,
An they've to try to borrow.
When th' chap at th' strap shop's lukkin glum,
An hardly seems to know yo;
An gooas on sarvin other fowk
As if he nivver saw yo.
An when yo're fain to pile up th' foir,
Wi' bits o' cowks an cinders;--
When poverty says, "here' aw've come,"
Love hooks it aght o'th' winders.
Friends yo once had are far too thrang
To ax yo to yer drinkin;
They happen dunnot meean owt wrang,--
But one cannot help for thinkin.
An when yo're lukkin seedy like,
Wi' patched an tattered clooas;
Yo'll find when yer coit elbows gape,
Sich friends oft shut ther doors.
Ther are poor fowk 'at's happier far,
Nor rich ens,--ther's noa daat on't,
For brass cannot mak happiness,
But sewerly it's a pairt on't.
Aw'll tell yo ov a tale aw heeard,--
It's one 'at tuk mi fancy,--
Abaat a young chap an his wife,
They called her Natty Nancy.
They called her Natty, yo mun know
Becoss shoo wor soa clivver,
At darnin, cookin, weshin clooas
Or onny job whativver.
Well, they began as monny do
'At arn't blest wi' riches;
He hugg'd all th' fortun he possessed
I'th' pocket ov his britches.
It worn't mich, it wodn't raich
Aboon a two-o'-three shillin;
But they wor full ov hooap an health,
An they wor strong an willin.
An fowk wor capt to see ha sooin
Ther little cot grew cooasy;
Shoo'd allus summat cheerful like,
If't nobbut wor a pooasy.
Soa time slipt on, an all went weel
When Dick sed, "Natty, lass,
A-latly aw've begun to feel
Aw'st like a bigger haase.
For when aw tuk this cot for thee,
We'd nubdy but ussen;
But sin that lad wor born ther's three,
An ther'll sooin be four, an then?"
"Why, Dick," shoo sed, "just suit thisen,
Here's raam enuff for me;
But if tha'rt anxious for a change,
Aw'm willin to agree."
Soa sooin they tuk a bigger haase,
They tew'd throo morn to neet,
To mak it smar