He gav me then to understand,
If I hedant cum to pray,
At t’grace o’ God an t’breead o’ life,
Wor all they gav away.
It’s feaful nice fer folk to talk
Abaat ther breead o’ life,
An specially when they’ve plenty,
Fer t’childer an ther wife.
Bud I set off agean at t’run,
Fer I weel understood,
If I gat owt fra that there clan,
It woddant do ma good.
E travelling on I thowt I heeard,
As I went nearer t’tahn,
A thaasand voices e mi ears
Saying “John, where are ta bahn?”
An ivvery grocer’s shop I pass’d,
A play-card I cud see,
E t’biggest type at e’er wod print—
“There’s nowt here, lad, for thee.”
Wal ivvery butcher’s shop I pass’d,
Astead o’ meit wor seen,
A mighty carving-knife hung up,
Hi, fair afore me een.
Destruction wor inviting me,
I saw it fearful clear,
Fer ivvery druggist window sed—
“Real poison is sold here.”
At t’last I gav a frantic howl,
A shaat o’ dreead despair,
I seized mesen be t’toppin then,
An shack’d an lugg’d me hair.
Then quick as leetening ivver wor,
A thowt com e me heead—
I’d tak a walk to t’Symetry,
An meditate wi t’deead.
T’oud Cherch clock then wor striking t’time
At folk sud be asleep,
Save t’Bobbies at wor on ther beat,
An t’Pindar after t’sheep.