Yorkshire Ditties, First Series | Page 3

wide,
Callin' for mammy to provide
Ther mornin's meal;
An' high aboon ther little hooam,
Th' saand o'
daddy's warblin coom,
Ringin' soa sweetly o' mi ear,
Like breathins
thro' a purer sphere,
He sang soa weel.

Ther mammy, a few yards away,
Wor hoppin' on a bit o' hay,
Too
feard to come, too bold to flee;
An' watchin me wi' troubled e'e,
Shoo seem'd to say:
"Dooant touch my bonny babs, young man!

Ther daddy does the best he can
To cheer yo with his sweetest song;

An' thoase 'll sing as weel, ere long,
Soa let 'em stay."
"Tha needn't think aw'd do 'em harm--
Come shelter 'em and keep 'em
warm!
For aw've a little nest misel,
An' two young babs, aw'm
praad to tell,
'At's precious too;
An' they've a mammy watching thear,
'At howds
them little ens as dear,
An' dearer still, if that can be,
Nor what
thease youngens are to thee,
Soa come,--nah do!
"A'a well!--tha'rt shy, tha hops away,--
Tha doesn't trust a word aw
say;
Tha thinks aw'm here to rob an' plunder,
An' aw confess aw
dunnot wonder--
But tha's noa need;
Aw'll leave yo to yorsels,--gooid bye!
For nah
aw see yor daddy's nigh;
He's dropt that strain soa sweet and strong;

He loves yo better nor his song--
He does indeed."
Aw walk'd away, and sooin mi ear
Caught up the saand o' warblin
clear;
Thinks aw, they're happy once agean;
Aw'm glad aw didn't
prove so mean
To rob that nest;
For they're contented wi ther lot,
Nor envied me
mi little cot;
An' in this world, as we goa throo,
It is'nt mich gooid
we can do,

An' do awr best.
Then let us do as little wrong
To ony as we pass along,
An' never
seek a joy to gain
At's purchased wi another's pain,
It isn't reet.
Aw shall goa hooam wi' leeter heart,
To mend awr
Johnny's little cart:
(He allus finds me wark enough
To piecen up
his brocken stuff,
For every neet.)
An' Sally--a'a! if yo could see her!
When aw sit daan to get mi teah,

Shoo puts her dolly o' mi knee,
An' maks me sing it "Hush a bee,"
I'th' rocking chear;
Then begs some sugar for it too;
What it can't ait
shoo tries to do;
An' turnin up her cunnin e'e,,
Shoo rubs th' doll
maath, an says, "yo see,
It gets its share.",
Sometimes aw'm rayther cross? aw fear!
Then starts a little tremblin
tear,
'At, like a drop o' glitt'rin dew
Swimmin within a wild flaar
blue,
Falls fro ther e'e;
But as the sun in April shaars
Revives the little
droopin flaars,
A kind word brings ther sweet smile back:
Aw
raylee think mi brain ud crack
If they'd ta dee.
Then if aw love my bairns soa weel,
May net a skylark's bosom feel

As mich consarn for th' little things
'At snooze i'th' shelter which
her wings
Soa weel affoards?
If fowk wod nobbut bear i' mind
How mich is
gained by bein' kind,
Ther's fewer breasts wi' grief ud swell,
An'

fewer fowk ud thoughtless mell
Even o'th' burds.
Wayvin Mewsic
Ther's mewsic i'th' shuttle, i'th' loom, an i'th frame,
Ther's melody
mingled i'th' noise,
For th' active ther's praises, for th' idle ther's
blame,
If they'd hearken to th' saand of its voice;
An' when flaggin a
bit, ha refreshin to feel
As yo pause an luk raand on the throng,
At
the clank o' the tappet, the hum o' the wheel,
Sing this plain
unmistakable song:--
Nick a ting, nock a ting;
Wages keep pocketing;
Workin for little is
better nor laiking;
Twist an' twine, reel an' wind;
Keep a contented mind;
Troubles are
oft ov a body's own making.
To see workin fowk wi' a smile o' ther face
As they labor thear day
after day;
An' hear 'th women's voices float sweetly throo 'th place,

As they join i' some favorite lay;
It saands amang th' din, as the violet
seems
'At peeps aght th' green dockens among,
An' spreading a
charm over th' rest by its means,
Thus it blends i' that steady old
song;
Nick a ting, nock a ting;
Wages keep pocketing;
Workin for little is
better nor laiking;
Twist an' twine, reel an' wind;
Keep a contented mind;
Troubles are
oft ov a body's own making.
An' then see what lessons are laid out anent us,
As pick after pick
follows time after time,
An' warns us tho' silent, to let nowt prevent
us
From strivin by little endeavours to climb;
Th' world's made o'
trifles! its dust forms a mountain!
Then niver despair as you're

trudgin along;
If troubles will come an' yor spirits dishearten,
Yo'll
find ther's relief i' that steady old song;
Nick a ting, nock a ting;
Wages keep pocketing;
Working for little
is better nor laiking;
Twist an' twine, reel an' wind;
Keep a contented mind;
Troubles are
oft ov a body's own making.
Life's warp comes throo Heaven, th' weft's fun bi us sen;
To finish a
piece we're compell'd to ha booath.
Th' warp's reight, but if th' weft
should be faulty--ha then? Noa wayver i' th' world can produce a gooid
clooath;
Then let us endeavour, bi working and striving,
To finish
awr piece soa's noa fault can be fun;
An' then i' return for awr