k moor surely still,
Will dee wi' th' dropsy.

It's a queer thing 'at sich a nation
Can't use a bit o' moderation;
But one lot rush to ther damnation
Throo love o'th' bottle:
Wol others think to win salvation
Wi' bein teetotal."

Wi' booany neive he stroked mi heead,
"Tak my advice, young chap," he sed,
"Let liquors be, sup ale asteead,
An tha'll be better,
An dunnot treat th' advice tha's heard
Like a deead letter."

"Why Deeath," aw sed, "fowk allus say,
Yo come to fotch us chaps away!
But this seems strange, soa tell me pray,
Ha wor't yo coom?
Wor it to tell us keep away,
Yo hav'nt room?"

"Stop whear tha art, Jack, if tha dar
But tha'll find spirits worse bi far
Sarved aght i' monny a public bar,
'At's thowt quite lawful;
Nor what tha'll find i'th' places parsons call soa awful."

"Gooid bye!" he sed, an off he shot,
Leavin behind him sich a lot
O' smook, as blue as it wor hot!
It set me stewin!
Soa hooam aw cut, an' gate a pot
Ov us own brewin.

---------

If when yo've read this stooary throo,
Yo daat if it's exactly true,
Yo'll nobbut do as others do,
Yo may depend on't.
Blow me! aw ommost daat it too,
So thear's an end on't.

What Wor it?

What wor it made me love thee, lass?
Aw connot tell;
Aw know it worn't for thi brass;--
Tho' poor misel
Aw'd moor nor thee, aw think, if owt,
An what _aw_ had wor next to nowt.

Aw didn't love thi 'coss thi face
Wor fair to see:
For tha wor th' plainest lass i'th' place,
An as for me,
They called me "nooasy," "long-legs," "walkin prop,"
An sed aw freetened customers throo th' shop.

Aw used to read i' Fairy books
Ov e'en soa breet,
Ov gowden hair, angelic looks,
An smiles soa sweet;
Aw used to fancy when aw'd older grown,
Aw'd claim some lovely Fairy for mi own.

An weel aw recollect that neet,--
'Twor th' furst o'th' year,
Aw tuk thi hooam, soaked throo wi' sleet,
An aw'd a fear
Lest th' owd man's clog should give itsen a treat,
An be too friendly wi' mi britches seeat.

What fun they made, when we went in;--
They cried, "Yo're catched!"
An then thi mother sed i'th' midst o'th' din
"They're fairly matched,
An beauty's in th' beholder's e'e they say,
An they've booath been gooid childer, onyway."

An then aw saw a little tear,
Unbidden flow,
That settled it!--for then an thear
Aw seemed to know,
'At we wor meant to share each others lot,
A