An when yor ommost driven mad,
Who quiets yo daan, an calls yo "lad,"
An shows yo things are nooan soa bad?
A wife.
Who nivver once forgets that day,
When yo've to draw yor bit o' pay,
But comes to meet yo hawf o'th' way?
A wife.
Who is it, when yo hooamward crawl,
Taks all yo have, an thinks it small;
Twice caants it, an says, "Is this all?"
A wife.
All Tawk.
Some tawk becoss they think they're born
Wi' sich a lot o' wit;
Some seem to tawk to let fowk know
They're born withaat a bit.
Some tawk i' hooaps 'at what they say
May help ther fellow men;
But th' inooast 'at tawk just tawk becoss
They like to hear thersen.
Aw Can't Tell.
Aw nivver rammel mich abaat,
Aw've summat else to do;
But yet aw think, withaat a daat,
Aw've seen a thing or two.
One needn't leeav his native shoor,
An visit foreign lands,—
At hooam he'll find a gooid deeal moor
Nor what he understands.
Aw can't tell why a empty heead
Should be held up soa heigh,
Or why a suit o' clooas should leead
Soa monny fowk astray.
Aw can't tell why a child 'at's born
To lord or lady that,
Should be soa worship'd, wol they scorn
A poor man's little brat.