Yorkshire Tales. Third Series | Page 7

axt her, for aw know tha'd nooan be likely to give mich; but if aw thowt aw could get one like it for owt under five an twenty shillin awd be after one i'th mornin."
"Well, but tha connot,--for ther's nivver been but one made o' that pattern."
"Ther'd happen be one ov another pattern to suit me."
"Ther's noa moor ov onny sooart whativver; for th' chap at keeps that shop is gooin to retire from business to-neet an start a bank i'th mornin,--an noa wonder."
"Onnybody'd think to listen to thi at tha didn't thoil it. Aw know ha mich brass tha tuk wi thi an if tha's spent it all, what bi that! Tha doesn't buy thi dowter a hat ivvery wick! an its far cheaper to buy a daycent article nor to squander yor brass on a lot o' rubbish. Shoo's varry careful ov her clooas is Hepsabah, an tha'll see it'll ha lasted weel bi th' time tha gooas to buy her another."
"That's a moral sartainty. If that hat lasts her wol aw buy her another it'll last a long time."
"Say noa moor abaat it. Tha's suited us an if tha hasn't suited thisen its thi own fault. Aw thowt tha desarved a bit ov a treeat soa aw fotched thi a drop o' thi favourite, an if tha doesn't want it all thisen aw dooant mind havin a drop."
"That's all reight, Mally, an awm glad tha'rt soa thowtful, but aw connot help thinkin tha'rt a varry inconsistent woman."
"Nah then! If tha'rt gooin to start callin me names aw willn't have a drop!"
"Aw dooant want to call thi names, but facts are stubborn things. If aw happen to goa an get two-penoth into mi heead tha praiches at me for a full clockhaar abaat th' sin ov extravagance an th' blessins ov economy; but awr Hepsabah can wear a hat at's cost as mich as aw could buy a distillary for, an that's all reight."
"If tha bowt a distillery, Sammywell, nawther thee nor it wod last as long as awr Hepsabah's hat, soa things are better as they are. Hand ovver what change tha's getten i' thi pocket an then sup up an let's get off to bed, an be thankful tha's getten a dowter to buy a hat for, an a wife at advises thee allus for th' best."
"All reight, lass,--awm ready,--but aw connot for th' life o' me see what awr Hepsabah's hat has to do wi young wimmen darnin ther stockins an weshin ther shifts."
"A'a, Sammywell! Ther's a deeal o' things abaat wimmen at tha has to leearn yet."
"Aw believe there is,--but twenty two an sixpence a lesson is a trifle aboon my cut."

Old Dave to th' New Parson.
"Soa, yo're th' new parson, are yo? Well, awm fain to see yo've come; Yo'll feel a trifle strange at furst, But mak yorsen at hooam.
Aw hooap yo'll think nor war o' me, If aw tell what's in mi noddle, Remember, if we dooant agree, It's but an old man's twaddle.
But aw might happen drop a hint, 'At may start yo to thinkin; Awd help yo if aw saw mi way, An do it too, like winkin.
Awm net mich up o' parsons,-- Ther's some daycent ens aw know; They're smart enuff at praichin, But at practice they're too slow.
For dooin gooid nooan can deny Ther chonces are mooast ample; If they'd give us fewer precepts, An rayther moor example.
We need a friend to help waik sheep, Oe'r life's rough ruts an boulders;-- Ther's a big responsibility Rests on a parson's shoulders.
But oft ther labor's all in vain, Noa matter ha persistent; Becoss ther taichin an ther lives Are hardly quite consistent.
Ther's nowt can shake ther faith in God, When bad is growing worse; An nowt abate ther trust, unless It chonce to touch ther purse.
They say, "Who giveth to the poor, Lends to the Lord," but yet, They all seem varry anxious, Net to get the Lord in debt.
But wi my fooilish nooations Mayhap yo'll net agree,-- Its like enuff 'at awm mistaen,-- But it seems that way to me.
If yo hear a clivver sarmon, Yor attention it command's, If yo know at th' praicher's heart's as white As what he keeps his hands.
Ther's too mich love ov worldly ways, An too mich affectation; They work i'th' vinyard a few days, Then hint abaat vacation.
He has to have a holiday Because he's worked soa hard;-- Well, aw allus think 'at labor Is desarvin ov reward.
What matters, tho' his little flock A shepherd's care is wantin: Old Nick may have his run o'th' fold Wol he's off galavantin.
Aw dooant say 'at yo're sich a one, Yo seem a gradely sooart; But if yo' th' Gospel armour don, Yo'll find it isn't spooart.
Dooant sell yor heavenly birthright, For a mess