"Gooid gracious, alive! What's to do?"
Says Matty, "whativver's amiss?"
"A'a, lass! tha'll nooan think at its true,—
It's a tarrible come-off is this,"
"Tha knows Sally Slut,—A'a dear me!
To-day as aw went across th' green,
Aw met her,—an what should aw see,—
Why, shoo'd getten a pair o' black een,"
"That scamp! But aw'll sattle wi' him!"
Says Mat, as shoo threw on her shawl,—
"Aw warned her agean weddin Tim,—
But aw'll let him see;—sharply an all!"
Off shoo flew an left me bi misen,
An aw swoller'd mi teah in a sniff,
An aw crept up to bed, thear an then,—
For aw knew shoo'd come back in a tiff.
An shoo did, in a few minnits mooar;
An worn't shoo mad? nivver fear!
An th' laader aw reckoned to snooar,
An th' laader shoo skriked i' mi ear.
Tha thowt tha'd put me in a stew,—
But aw treeat sich like conduct wi' scorn!
But tha didn't fooil me, for aw knew,
Shoo'd black een ivver sin shoo wor born.
Shoo can booast ov her een,—that shoo can!
But shoo's nowt at aw envy,—net me!
Unless it's her bavin a man,
Asteead ov a hawbuck like thee.
A Screw Lawse.
When rich fowk are feastin, an poor fowk are grooanin,
Ther's summat 'at connot be reight.
Wol one lot are cheerin, another lot's mooanin
For want ov sufficient to ait.
Ther must be a screw lawse i'th' social machine,
An if left to goa on varry long,
Ther'll as sewer be a smash as befoortime ther's been,
When gross wrangs ov thooas waik mak em strong.
Discontent may long smolder, but aght it'll burst,
In a flame 'at ther efforts will mock;
An they'll leearn when too lat, 'at they've met the just fate,
Ov thooas who rob th' poor o' ther jock.
A Sad Mishap.