w, an aw could'nt even guess wrong.

Then aw stood beside th' grave when th' saxton
wor shovin in th' gravel,
An he sed, "this last maks five,
an aw think ther's just room for another,"
An aw went an left him, lonely an heartsick to travel,
Till th' time comes when aw may lig daan
beside them four bairns an ther mother.

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

Settin Off.

It isn't 'at aw want to rooam
An leeav thi bi thisen:
For aw'm content enuff at hooam,
Aw'm net like other men.
But then ther's thee an childer three,
To care for an protect,
It's reight 'at yo should luk to me,
An wrang should aw neglect.

Aw'm growin older ivvery day,
My race is ommost run,
Time's growin varry precious, lass,
An lots remains undone.
If aw wor called away, maybe,
Tha'd find some other man,
But tha cannot find a father,
For them lads,--do th' best tha can.

Another husband might'nt prove
As kind as aw have been;
An wedded life's a weary thing,
When love's shut aght o'th' scene.
Aw know aw've faults, aw'll own a lot,--
But then, tha must agree,
Aw've allus kept a tender spot
Within mi heart for thee.

An if aw've spokken nowty words
At's made thee cry an freeat;
Aw've allus suffered twice as mich,
An beg'd thi to forget.
Tha'rt th' only woman maks me mad,
Then soothes me wi' a smile,
Then maks mi fancy aw'm a king,
An snubs me all the while,

Nay,--nay,--old lass! it isn't fun
Nor frolics that allure,--
Aw'm strivin for thisen an bairns,
To mak yor futur sure.
It's duty at aw think aw owe
To them young things an thee,
The thowts o' which may cheer mi heart,
When aw lay daan to dee.

To th' Swallow.

Bonny burd! aw'm fain to see thee,
For tha tells ov breeter weather;
But aw connot quite forgie thee,--
Connot love thee altogether.

'Tisn't thee aw fondly welcome--
'Tis the cheerin news tha brings,
Tellin us fine weather will come,
When we see thi dappled wings.

But aw'd rayther have a sparrow,--
Rayther hear a robin twitter;--
Tho' they may net be thi marrow,
May net fly wi' sich a glitter;

But they nivver leeav us, nivver--
Storm