For he's th' best chonce o' happiness,
Whose wants are small an' few.
What it is to be Mother.
A'a, dear! what a life has a mother!
At leeast, if they're hamper'd like me,
Thro' mornin' to neet ther's some bother,
An' ther will be, aw guess, wol aw dee.
Ther's mi chap, an misen, an' six childer,
Six o'th' roughest, aw think, under th' sun,