to tell me
one moor Christmas mornin,
Had come, for its welcome--but ha could aw
welcome it when all alooan?
For th' snow wor fallin soa thickly, an th' cold wind wor mooanin,
An them 'at aw lov'd wor asleep i'
that cold church yard, under a stooan.

Soa aw went to bed an aw slept, an then began dreamin,
'At mi wife stood by mi side,
an smiled, an mi heart left off its beatin,
An aw put aght mi hand, an awoke, an mornin wor gleamin;
An its made me feel sorrowful, an aw connot give ovver freatin.

For aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha' been,
If awd gooan to that place, where ther's noa moor cares,
nor partin, nor sorrow,
For aw know shoo's thear, or that dream aw sud nivver ha seen,
But aw'll try to be patient,
an maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow.

It's forty long summers an winters, sin tha bade "gooid bye,"
An as fine a young fella tha wor, as ivver aw met i' mi life;
When tha went to some far away land, thi fortune to try,
An aw stopt at hooam to toil on,
becoss it wor th' wish o' my wife.

An shoo wor a bonny young wench, an better nor bonny,--
Aw seem nah as if aw can see her,
wi' th' first little bairn on her knee;
An we called it Ann, for aw liked that name best ov onny,
An fowk said it wor th' pictur o'th' mother,
wi' just a strinklin o' me.

An th' next wor a lad, an th' next wor a lad, then a lass came,--
That made us caant six,--an six happier fowk nivver sat to a meal,
An they grew like hop plants--full o' life--but waikly i'th' frame,
An at last one drooped, an Deeath coom an marked her with his seal.

A year or two moor an another seemed longin to goa,
An all we could do wor to smooth his deeath bed,
'at he might sleep sweeter--
Then th' third seemed to sicken an pine, an we couldn't say "noa,"
For he said his sister had called,
an he wor most anxious to meet her--

An how we watched th' youngest, noa mortal can tell but misen,
For we prized it moor,
becoss it wor th' only one left us to cherish;
At last her call came, an shoo luked sich a luk at us then,
Which aw ne'er shall forget,
tho' mi mem'ry ov all other things perish.

A few years moor, when awr griefs wor beginnin to lighten,
Mi friends began askin my wife,
if shoo felt hersen hearty an strong?
An aw nivver saw at her face wor beginnin to whiten,
Till shoo grew like a shado