But aw luk at it oft as it glimmers i'th' leet,
An aw seem to live ovver once mooar;
Them days when mi futer wor all seemin breet,
An aw thowt nowt but joy wor i' stooar.
Aw'm summat like th' pan, aw've aght lasted mi day,
An aw'st sooin get mi nooatice to flit;
But aw've this consolation,—aw think aw may say,
Aw'st leeav some 'at aw've warmed up a bit.
It may be Soa.
This world's made up ov leet an shade,
But some things strange aw mark;
One class live all on th' sunny side,
Wol others dwell i'th' dark.
Wor it intended some should grooap,
Battlin with th' world o' care,
Wol others full ov joy an hooap
Have happiness to spare?
It may be soa,—aw'll net contend,
Opinions should be free;—
Aw'm nobbut spaikin as a friend,—
But it seems that way to me.
Should one class wear ther lives away,
To mak another great;
Wol all their share will hardly pay,
For grub enuff to ait?
An is it reight at some should dress
I' clooas bedeckt wi' gold,
Wol others havn't rags enuff,
To keep ther limbs throo th' cold?
It may be soa,—aw'll net contend, &c,
When gazin at th' fine palaces,
Whear live the favoured few;
Aw cant help wonderin sometimes
If th' inmates nobbut knew,
At th' buildins next to their's i' size
Are workhaases for th' poor,
An if they'd net feel some surprise
At th' misery raand ther door?
It may be soa,—aw'll net contend, &c.
Sometimes aw wonder what chaps think
When shiverin wi' th' cold,
Abaat th' brass at they've spent i' drink,
Whear th' landlords caant ther gold.
They couldn't get a shillin lent,
To buy a bit o' breead,
Whear all ther wages have been spent,—
They'd get kickt aght asteead.