Various reasons have operated in the time of the publication and the curtailment of this volume; but it is now submitted with every respect to the public for their perusal. Many of his poems, which are not found in the present volume, the author trusts will be deemed worthy of being treasured in the scrap books of his friends. Of the literary merits of the composition, it would ill become the author in any way to descant upon; but in regard to these he leaves himself entirely and absolutely in the hands of a critical, and, he hopes, an indulgent public, feeling assured that he may trust himself in the hands of his readers.
No formal dedication is here made to any particular patron, but the book is submitted without the powerful influence of any conspicuous name or the commendation of any well-known literary friend; and like Dr. Johnson of old, failing patrons, he trusts that his work will, in the midst of his numerous competitors, locally and generally, be thought worthy of the attention of the various classes of the public.
AUGUST, 1891.
CONTENTS
| page | |
| The Grand Old Man of Oakworth | [9] |
| Dr. Dobie’s Lecture on Burns | [11] |
| What Profits Me | [13] |
| The Death of Gordon | [14] |
| The Earl of Beaconsfield | [15] |
| Come, Nivver Dee i’ Thi Shell | [17] |
| T’owd Betty’s Advice | [18] |
| Toied Blacksmith’s Advice | [20] |
| T’First Pair o’ Britches | [21] |
| O Welcome, Lovely Summer | [23] |
| Burn’s Centenary | [24] |
| Waiting for t’ Angels | [25] |
| The Lass o’ Newsholme Dean | [26] |
| The Broken Pitcher | [28] |
| Ode to Sir Titus Salt | [30] |
| Cowd as Leead | [33] |
| The Factory Girl | [34] |
| Bonny Lark | [36] |
| Home of my Boyish Days | [37] |
| Ode to Spring ’64 | [38] |
| Address to t’First Wesherwoman | [39] |
| In a Pleasant Little Valley | [40] |
| John o’t’ Bog and Keighley Feffy Goast | [42] |
| The Late Thomas Ireland | [56] |
| A Yorkshireman’s Christmas | [57] |
| The Late Thomas Craven | [58] |
| Gooise and Giblet Pie | [59] |
| The Grand Old Man | [60] |
| Ode to Bacchus | [62] |
| Sall o’t’ Bog | [64] |
| Song of the Months | [65] |
| Bonnie Cliffe Castle | [67] |
| Opening of Devonshire Park | [68] |
| Farewell to Rev. H. J. Longsdon | [71] |
| He’s Thy Brother | [73] |
| Lund’s Excursion to Windermere | [74] |
| The Tartan Plaid | [85] |
| The Pauper’s Box | [86] |
| The Vale of Aire | [88] |
| Fra Haworth to Bradford | [90] |
| The Veteran | [91] |
| Address to the Queen | [92] |
| Ode to Burns on his 130th Birthday | [96] |
| Trip to Malsis Hall | [98] |
| The Bold Bucchaneers | [104] |
| The Benks o’ the Aire | [105] |
| The Late J. W. Peckover | [107] |
| The Fugitive | [108] |
| The Feathered Captive | [111] |
| Dame Europe’s Lodging House | [113] |
| Charming Rebecca of Riddlesden Hall | [127] |
| The City of “So be I’s” | [128] |
| Shoo’s Deead an’ Goan | [132] |
| Ode to an Herring | [133] |
| The World’s Wheels | [137] |
| English Church History | [137] |
| Illustration (Keighley Parish Church) | [139] |
| The Old Hand-Wool-Combers | [140] |
| T’ Village Aram Skaram | [143] |
| Come, Gi’ us a Wag o’ Thy Paw | [146] |
| Full o’ Doubts and Fears | [147] |
| Behold how the Rivers | [148] |
| Our Poor Little Factory Girls | [149] |
| Haworth Sharpness | [150] |
| Dear Harden | [151] |
| The Heroic Watchman | [152] |
| The English “Cricketeer” | [154] |
| Christmas Day | [156] |
| Wi’ Him I call My Own | [157] |
| It isn’t so wi’ Me | [158] |
| A New Divorce | [159] |
| The Vision | [160] |
The Grand Old Man of Oakworth.
Come, hand me down that rustic harp,
From off that rugged wall,
For I must sing another song
To suit the Muse’s call,
For she is bent to sing a pœan,
On this eventful year,
In praise of the philanthropist
Whom all his friends hold dear—
The Grand Old Man of Oakworth,
Beyond his eightieth year!
No flattery! My honest Muse,
Nor yet be thou servile;
But tinkle up that harp again,
A moment to beguile.
Altho’ the bard be rude and rough,
Yet, he is ever proud
To do the mite that he can do,
And thus proclaim aloud—
The Grand Old Man of Oakworth,
Of whom we all are proud!
For base indeed were any bard
That ever sang on earth,
Did he not wish his neighbour well,
And praise his sterling worth.
Leave state affairs and office
To those of younger blood,
But I am with the patriot,
The noble, wise, and good—
The Grand Old Man of Oakworth,
The wise, the great, the good!