Then we’d talk o’ the past, when our loves wor forbidden,
When fortune wor adverse, an’ friends wod deny,
How ahr hearts wor still true, tho’ the favours wor hidden
Fra the charm of ahr life, the mild stare of ahr eye.
An’ when age sall hev temper’d ahr warm glow o’ feelin’
Ahr loves should endure, an’ still wod we share;
For weal or in woe, or whativver cums stealin’,
We’d share in ahr cot on the Benks o’ the Aire.
Then hasten, my Mary, the moments are flying,
Let us catch the bright fugitives ere they depart;
For O, thou knaws not what pleasures supplyin’
Thy bonny soft image hes nah geen my heart.
The miser that wanders besides buried treasure,
Wi’ his eyes ever led to the spot in despair;
How different to him is my rapture and pleasure
Near the dear little cot on the Benks o’ the Aire.
But sooin may the day come, if come it will ivver;
The breetest an’ best to me ivver knawn,
When fate may ordain us no longer to sever,
Then, sweet girl of my heart, I can call thee my own.
For dear unto me wor one moment beside thee,
If it wor in the desert, Mary, wi’ me;
But sweeter an’ fairer, whate’er betide thee,
In ahr sweet little cot on the Benks o’ the Aire.
In Memory of
J. W. PECKOVER,
Died July 10th, 1888.
He was a man, an upright man
As ever trod this mortal earth,
And now upon him back we scan,
Whose greatest fault was honest mirth.
But never more his friends will see
The smiling face and laughing eye,
Nor hear his jokes with heartfelt glee,
Which made dull care before them fly.
Nor ever more the friend shall find,
When labour lacks, the shake of hand
That oft was wont to leave behind
What proved a Brother and a Friend.
In winter’s bitter, biting frost,
Or hail, or snow, or rain, or sleet,
The wretch upon life’s tempest toss’d
In him found shelter from the street.
The unemployed, the aged poor,
The orphan child, the lame and blind,
The stranger never crossed his floor
But what a friend in him did find.
But now the hand and heart are gone,
Which were so noble, kind and true,
And now his friends, e’en every one,
Are loth to bid a last adieu.