y pain,
They didn't spare love, toil or care,
An they'd do it o'er ageean.
An all they crave for what they gave,
Is just a kindly word;--
A fond "God bless yo parents,"
Wod be th' sweetest saand they've heard.

Then dooant forget the old fowks, &c.

Tha's entered into business nah,--
Tha'rt dooin pratty weel;
Tha's won an tha desarves success,--
Aw know tha'rt true as steel.
Tha'rt growin rich, an lives i' style,
Tha's sarvents at thi call;
But dooant forget thi mother, lad,
To her tha owes it all.
Thi father totters in his walk,
His hair is growin grey;
He cannot work as once he did,
He's ommost had his day.
But th' heart 'at loved thi when a child,
Is still as warm an true;
His pride is in his lad's success,--
He hopes tha loves him too.
But what they long for mooast ov all,
Is just that kindly word,
"God bless yo, my dear parents!"
Wod be th' sweetest saand they've heard.

Then dooant forget the old fowks, &c,

Soa Bonny.

Aw've travell'd o'er land, an aw've travell'd o'er sea,
An aw've seen th' grandest lasses 'at ivver can be;
But aw've nivver met one 'at could mak mi heart glad,
Like her,--for oh! shoo wor bonny mi lad.

Shoo wornt too gooid, for her temper wor hot,
An when her tongue started, shoo wag'd it a lot;
An it worn't all pleasant, an some on it bad,
But oh! shoo wor bonny!--soa bonny mi lad.

Consaited and cocky, an full o' what's nowt,
An shoo'd say nasty things withaat ivver a thowt;
An shood try ivvery way, just to mak me get mad;---
For shoo knew shoo wor bonny,--soa bonny mi lad.

Fowk called me a fooil to keep hingin araand,
But whear shoo'd once stept aw could worship the graand;
For th' seet ov her face cheer'd mi heart when 'twor sad,
For shoo wor soa bonny,--soa bonny mi lad.

But shoo wor like th' rest,--false,--false in her heart;
Shoo made me to love her,--an Cupid's sharp dart
Wor nobbut her fun,--wi' decait it wor clad;--
But then, shoo wor bonny;--soa bonny mi lad.

Shoo sooin wed another,--noa better nor me,
An aw hooap shoo'll be happy, though my life is dree;
An aw'll try to submit, though shoo treated me bad,
But oh! mi poor heart is nigh brokken mi lad.

Ther may come a time when her passion has cooiled,
Shoo may think ov a chap shoo unfeelingly fooiled;
Shoo may seek me agean;--if shoo does,--well, by gad!
Aw'll welcome her back. Shoo's soa bonny mi lad.

The Linnet.

Little linnet,--stop a m