Yorkshire Ditties, First Series | Page 9

trifle moor charity show,
An' help 'em
sometimes to a meal.
But we're all far too fond of ussen,
To bother wi' things aght o'th' seet;

An' we leeav to ther fate sich as them
'At's noa bed nor noa supper'
at neet.
But ther's mony a honest heart throbs,
Tho' it throbs under rags an' i'
pains,
'At wod'nt disgrace one o'th' nobs,
'At booasts better blooid
in his veins.
See that child thear! 'at's working away,
An' sweepin that crossin i'th'
street:
He's been thear iver sin it coom day,
An' yo'll find him thear
far into th' neet.
See what hundreds goa thowtlessly by,
An' ne'er think o' that child wi'
his broom!
What care they tho' he smothered a sigh,
Or wiped off a
tear as they coom.
But luk! thear's a man wi' a heart!
He's gien th' poor child summat at
last:
Ha his een seem to twinkle an' start,
As he watches th' kind
gentleman past!
An' thear in his little black hand
He sees a gold sovereign shine!
He

thinks he ne'er saw owt soa grand,
An' he says, "Sure it connot be
mine!"
An' all th' lads cluther raand him i' glee,
An' tell him to cut aght o'th
seet;
But he clutches it fast,--an' nah see
Ha he's threedin his way
along th' street,
Till he comes to that varry same man,
An' he touches him gently o'th'
back,
An' he tells him as weel as he can,
'At he fancies he's made a
mistak.
An' th' chap luks at that poor honest lad,
With his little naked feet, as
he stands,
An' his heart oppens wide--he's soa glad
Woll he taks one
o'th little black hands,
An' he begs him to tell him his name:
But th' child glances timidly
raand--
Poor craytur! he connot forshame
To lift up his een off o'th
graand.
But at last he finds courage to spaik,
An' he tells him they call him
poor Joa;
'At his mother is sickly an' waik;
An' his father went
deead long ago;
An' he's th' only one able to work
Aght o' four; an' he does what he
can,
Thro' early at morn till it's dark:
An' he hopes 'at he'll sooin be
a man.
An' he tells him his mother's last word,
As he starts for his labour for
th' day,
Is to put 'all his trust in the Lord,
An' He'll net send him
empty away.--
See that man! nah he's wipin his een,
An' he gives him that bright
piece o' gowd;
An' th' lad sees i' that image o'th Queen
What 'll keep
his poor mother thro' th' cowd.
An' mony a time too, after then,
Did that gentleman tak up his stand


At that crossing an' watch for hissen
The work ov that little black
hand.
An' when-years had gone by, he expressed
'At i'th' spite ov all th'
taichin he'd had,
An' all th' lessons he'd leearn'd, that wor th' best

'At wor towt by that poor little lad.
Tho' the proud an' the wealthy may prate,
An' booast o' ther riches
and land,
Some o'th' laadest ul sink second-rate
To that lad with his
little black hand.
Lilly's Gooan
"Well, Robert! what's th' matter! nah mun,
Aw see 'at ther's summat
nooan sweet;
Thi een luk as red as a sun--
Aw saw that across th'
width of a street;
Aw hope 'at yor Lily's noa war--
Surelee--th' little
thing is'nt deead?
Tha wod roor, aw think, if tha dar--
What means
ta bi shakin thi heead?
Well, aw see bi thi sorrowful e'e
At shoo's
gooan, an' aw'm soory, but yet,
When youngens like her hap ta dee,

They miss troubles as some live to hit.
Tha mun try an' put up wi' thi
loss,
Tha's been praad o' that child, aw mun say,
But give over
freatin, becoss
It's for th' best if shoo's been taen away."
"A'a!
Daniel, it's easy for thee
To talk soa, becoss th' loss is'nt thine;
But
its ommost deeath-blow to me,
Shoo wor prized moor nor owt else
'at's mine;
An' when aw bethink me shoo's gooan,
Mi feelins noa
mortal can tell;
Mi heart sinks wi' th' weight ov a stooan,
An' aw'm
capped 'at aw'm livin mysel.
Aw shall think on it wor aw to live
To
be th' age o' Methusla or moor;
Tho' shoo said 'at aw had'nt to grieve,

We should booath meet agean, shoo wor sure:
An' when shoo'd
been dreamin one day,
Shoo said shoo could hear th' angels call;

But shoo could'nt for th' life goa away
Till they call'd for her daddy
an' all.

An' as sooin as aw coom thro' my wark,
Shoo'd ha' me to sit
bi her bed;.
An' thear aw've watched haars i'th' dark,
An' listened to
all 'at shoo's said;.
Shoo's repeated all th' pieces shoo's learnt,
When

shoo's been ov a Sundy to th' schooil,
An ax'd me what dift'rent
things meant,
Woll aw felt aw wor nobbut a fooill
An' when aw've
been gloomy an' sad,
Shoo's smiled an' taen hold o' mi hand,
An
whispered, 'yo munnot freat, dad;
Aw'm gooin to a happier land;

An' aw'll tell Jesus when aw get thear,
'At aw've left yo here waitin
his call;
An' He'll find yo a place, niver fear,
For ther's room up i'
heaven