Yorkshire Ditties, First Series | Page 4

pains
an contriving,
Th' takker in 'll reward us an' whisper' well done.'
Clink a clank, clink a clank,
Workin withaat a thank,
May be awr
fortun--if soa never mind it!
Striving to do awr best,
We shall be reight at last,
If we lack
comfort nah, then shall we find it.
That's a Fact
A'a Mary aw'm glad 'at that's thee!
Aw need thy advice, lass, aw'm
sure;
Aw'm all ov a mooild tha can see,
Aw wor never i' this way
afoor,
Aw've net slept a wink all th' neet throo;
Aw've been twirling
abaght like a worm,
An' th' blankets gate felter'd, lass, too--
Tha
niver saw cloas i' sich form.
Aw'll tell thee what 't all wor abaght--

But promise tha'll keep it reight squat,
For aw wodn't for th' world let
it aght;
But aw can't keep it in--tha knows that.
We'd a meetin at the
schooil yesterneet,
An' Jimmy wor thear,--tha's seen Jim?
An' he
hutch'd cloise to me in a bit,
To ax me for th' number o'th' hymn;

Aw thowt 't wor a gaumless trick,
For he heeard it geen aght th' same
as me;
An' he just did th' same thing tother wick,--
It made fowk tak

noatice, dos't see.
An' when aw wor gooin towards hooam
Aw
heeard som'dy comin behund:
'Twor pitch dark, an' aw thowt if they
coom,
Aw should varry near sink into th' graund.
Aw knew it wor
Jim bi his traid,
An' aw tried to get aght ov his gate;
But a'a! tha
minds, lass, aw wor flaid,
Aw wor niver i' sich en a state.
Then aw
felt som'dy's arm raand my shawl,
An' aw said, "nah, leave loise or
aw'll screeam!
Can't ta let daycent lasses alooan,
Consarn thi up!
what does ta mean?"
But he stuck to mi arm like a leach,
An' he
whispered a word i' mi ear;
It took booath my breeath an' my speech,

For aw'm varry sooin thrown aght o' gear.
Then he squeezed me
cloise up to his sel,
An' he kussed me, i' spite o' mi teeth:
Aw says,
"Jimmy, forshame o' thisel!"
As sooin as aw'd getten mi breeath:

But he wodn't be quiet, for he said
'At he'd loved me soa true an' soa
long--
Aw'd ha' geen a ear off my yed
To get loise--but tha knows
he's so a strong--
Then he tell'd me he wanted a wife,
An' he begged
'at aw wodn't say nay;--
Aw'd ne'er heeard sich a tale i' mi life,
Aw
wor fesen'd whativer to say;
Cos tha knows aw've a likin' for Jim;

But yo can't allus say what yo mean,
For aw tremeld i' ivery limb,

But at last aw began to give way,
For, raylee, he made sich a fuss,

An aw kussed him an' all--for they say,
Ther's nowt costs mich less
nor a kuss.
Then he left me at th' end o' awr street,
An' aw've felt
like a fooil all th' neet throo;
But if aw should see him to neet,
What
wod ta advise me to do?
But dooant spaik a word--tha's noa need,

For aw've made up mi mind ha to act,

For he's th' grandest lad iver aw
seed,
An' aw like him th' best too--that's a fact!
Stop at Hooam
"Tha wodn't goa an leave me, Jim,
All lonely by mysel?
My een at th' varry thowts grow dim--
Aw connot say farewell.

Tha vow'd tha couldn't live unless
Tha saw me every day,
An' said tha knew noa happiness
When aw wor foorced a way.
An th' tales tha towld, I know full weel,
Wor true as gospel then;
What is it, lad, 'at ma's thee feel
Soa strange--unlike thisen?
Ther's raam enuff, aw think tha'll find,
I'th taan whear tha wor born,
To mak a livin, if tha'll mind
To ha' faith i' to-morn.
Aw've mony a time goan to mi wark
Throo claads o' rain and sleet;
All's seem'd soa dull, soa drear, an'
dark,
It ommust mud be neet.
But then, when braikfast time's come raand,
Aw've seen th' sun's cheerin ray,
An' th' heavy lukkin claads have
slunk
Like skulkin lads away.
An' then bi nooin it's shooan soa breet
Aw've sowt some shade to rest,
An' as aw've paddled hooam at neet,
Glorious it's sunk i'th west.
An' tho' a claad hangs ovver thee,

(An' trouble's hard to bide),
Have patience, lad, an' wait an' see
What's hid o'th' tother side.
If aw wor free to please mi mind,
Aw'st niver mak this stur;
But aw've a mother ommust blind,
What mud become o' her?
Tha knows shoo cared for me, when waik
An' helpless ivery limb,
Aw'm feeard her poor owd heart ud braik
If aw'd to leave her, Jim.
Aw like to hear thee talk o' th' trees
'At tower up to th' sky,
An' th' burds 'at flutterin i'th' breeze,
Lie glitterin' jewels fly.
Woll th' music of a shepherd's reed
May gently float along,
Lendin its tender notes to lead
Some fair maid's simple song;
An' flaars 'at grow o' ivery side,
Such as we niver see;
But here at hooam, at ivery stride,
There's flaars for thee an' me.
Aw care net for ther suns soa breet,
Nor