But dooan't let it harden yor heart:
Yo 'at's blessed wi' abundance should think
An try to do gooid wi' a part!
An then, as yo're totterin' daan,
An th' last grains o' sand are i'th glass,
Yo may find 'at yo've purchased a craan
Wi' makkin gooid use o' yor brass.

The New Year's Resolve.

Says Dick, "ther's a nooation sprung up i' mi yed,
For th' furst time i'th' whole coorse o' mi life,
An aw've takken a fancy aw'st like to be wed,
If aw knew who to get for a wife.

Aw dooant want a woman wi' beauty, nor brass,
For aw've nawther to booast on misel;
What aw want is a warm-hearted, hard-workin lass,
An ther's lots to be fun, aw've heeard tell.

To be single is all weel enuff nah an then,
But it's awk'ard when th' weshin day comes;
For aw nivver think sooapsuds agree weel wi' men;
They turn all mi ten fingers to thumbs.

An aw'm sure it's a fact, long afoor aw get done,
Aw'm slopt throo mi waist to mi fit;
An th' floor's in a pond, as if th' peggy-tub run,
An mi back warks as if it 'ud split.

Aw fancied aw'st manage at breead-bakin best;
Soa one day aw bethowt me to try,
But aw gate soa flustered, aw ne'er thowt o'th' yeast,
Soa aw mud as weel offered to fly.

Aw did mak a dumplin, but a'a! dear a me!
Abaght that lot aw hardly dar think;
Aw ne'er fan th' mistak till aw missed th' sooap, yo see,
An saw th' suet i'th' sooap-box o'th' sink.

But a new-year's just startin, an soa aw declare
Aw'll be wed if a wife's to be had;
For mi clooas is soa ragg'd woll aw'm ommost hauf bare,
An thease mullucks, they're drivin me mad.

Soa, if yo should know, or should chonce to hear tell,
Ov a lass 'at to wed is inclined,
Talegraft me at once, an aw'll see her misel,
Afoor shoo can alter her mind."

A Strange Stooary.

Aw know some fowk will call it crime,
To put sich stooaries into ryhme,
But yet, contentedly aw chime
Mi simple ditty:
An if it's all a waste o' time,
The moor's the pity.

-------

O'er Wibsey Slack aw coom last neet,
Wi' reekin heead and weary feet,
A strange, strange chap, aw chonced to meet;
He made mi start;
But pluckin up, aw did him greet
Wi' beatin heart.

His dress wor black as black could be,
An th' latest fashion aw could see,
But yet they hung soa dawderly,
Like suits i' shops;
Bi'th' heart! yo mud ha putten three
Sich legs i'th' slops.

Says aw, "Owd trump, it's rayther