Peter Prime's Principles.
"Sup up thi gill, owd Peter Prime,
Tha'st have a pint wi' me;
It's worth a bob at onny time
To have a chat wi' thee.
Aw like to see thi snowy hair,
An cheeks like apples ripe,—
Come squat thi daan i'th' easy cheer,
Draw up, an leet thi pipe.
Tho' eighty years have left ther trace,
Tha'rt hale an hearty yet,
An still tha wears a smilin face,
As when th' furst day we met.
Pray tell me th' saycret if tha can
What keeps thi heart soa leet,
An leeavs thi still a grand owd man,
At we're all praad to meet?"
"Why lad, my saycret's plain to see,
An th' system isn't hard;
Just live a quiet life same as me,
An tha'll win th' same reward.
Be honest i' thi dealins, lad,
That keeps a easy mind;
Shun all thi conscience says is bad,
An nivver be unkind.
If others laff becoss tha sticks
To what tha knows is reight,
Why, let 'em laff, dooant let their tricks
Prevent thee keepin straight.
If blessed wi' health, an strong to work
Dooant envy them at's rich;
If duty calls thi nivver shirk,
Tha'rt happier far nor sich.
Contentment's better wealth nor gold,
An labor sweetens life,—
Ther's nowt at maks a chap grow old,
Like idleness an strife.
Dooant tawk too mich, but what tha says
Be sewer it's allus true;
An let thi ways be honest ways,
An that'll get thi throo.
If tha's a wife, pray dooant forget
Shoo's flesh an blooid like thee;
Be kind an lovin, an aw'll bet
A helpmate true shoo'll be.
Dooant waste thi brass i' rants an sprees,
Or maybe when tha'rt old,—
Wi' body bent an tott'rin knees,
Tha'll be left aght i'th' cold.
Luk at th' breet side o' ivverything
An varry sooin tha'll see,
Whear providence has placed thi,
Is whear tha owt to be.
Dooant live as if this world wor all,
For th' time will come someday,
When that grim messenger will call,
An tha mun goa away.
Tha'll nivver need to quake or fear,
If tha carries aght this plan,
An them tha's left behind shall hear
'Thear lies an honest man.'"
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Just a word i' thi ear,—
Aw hooap we shall net disagree;
But aw'm foorced to admit as aw watch thi each year,
At tha seems a big humbug to me.
We know at tha brings us glad tidins ov Spring,
An for that art entitled to thanks;
But tha maks a poor fist when tha offers to sing,
An tha plays some detestable pranks.
Too lazy to build a snug hooam for thisel,
Tha lives but a poor vagrant life;
An thi mate is noa better aw'm sooary to tell,
Shoo's unfit to be onny burd's wife.
Shoo drops her egg into another burd's nest,
An shirks what's her duty to do;
Noa love for her offspring e'er trubbles the breast,
Ov this selfish, hard-hearted Cuckoo.
Some other poor burd mun attend to her young,
An work hard to find 'em wi' grubs,
An all her reward, is to find befooar long
At her foster child treeats her wi' snubs.
Tha lives throo all th' sunshine, but th' furst chilly wind
'At ruffles thi feathers a bit,
Yo gather together an all i' one mind
Turn yor tails,—fly away, an forget.