,
With eyes and forehead hot and bleary,
Sat a mother sad and weary,
With her darling on her knee;
Their humble fare at best was sparing
For the father he was shearing,
With his three brave sons of Erin,
All down in the Fen countree.

All her Saxon neighbours leave her,
With her boy and demon fever,
The midnight watch--none to relieve her,
Save a little Busy Bee:
He was called the Harem-Skarem,
Noisy as a drum-clock larum,
Yet his treasures he would share 'em,
With his friend right merrily.

Every night and every morning,
With the day sometimes at dawning--
While lay mother, sick and swooning--
To his dying mate went he:
Robbing his good Saxon mother,
Giving to his Celtic brother,
Who asked for him and no other,
Until his spirit it was free.

Saw the shroud and saw the coffin;
Brought the pipes and brought the snuff in;
This little noble-hearted ruffian,
To the wake each night went he:
Sabbath morning he was ready,
Warn'd the bearers to be steady,
Taking Peter to his beddy,
And a tear stood in his e'e.

Onward as the corpse was passing,
Ere the priest gave his last blessing,
Through the dingy crowd came pressing,
The father and the brothers three;
'Tis our mother--we will greet her;
How is this that here we meet her?
And without our little Peter,
Who will solve this mystery?

The Harem-Skarem interfered,
"Soon this corpse will be interred,
Come with us and see it buried,
Out in yonder cemet'ry:"
Soon they knew the worst and pondered
Half-amazed and half-dumbfounded;--
And returning home, they wondered
Who their little friend could be!

Turning round to him they bowed,
Much they thanked him, much they owed;
While the tears each cheek bedewed,
Wish'd him all prosperity:
"Never mind," he said, "my brothers,
What I've done, do ye to others;
We're all poor barns o' some poor mothers,"
Said the little Busy Bee.

Come, Gi' us a Wag o' Thy Paw.

[T'West Riding o' Yorkshire is famed for different branches i' t'fine art
line, bud t'music aw think licks t'lump, especially abaght Haworth an'
Keighley. Nah Haworth wunce hed a famous singer; he wor considered one
o' t'best i' Yorkshire in his time. It is said 'at he once walked fra
Haworth to York i' one day, an' sung at an Oratorio at neet. He hed one
fault, an' that wor just same as all t'other Haworth celebrities; he wod
talk owd fashioned, an' that willan