Aw goa to th' chapil, yet confess
Aw'm somewhat daatful, moor or less,
For th' chaps at cracks up gloory soa,
Ne'er seem in onny haste to goa.
To me, religion seems quite plain;—
Aw cause noa fellow-mortal pain,
Aw do a kind act when aw can,
An hooap to dee an honest man.
Aw hooap to live till old an gray,
An when th' time comes to goa away,
Aw feel convinced some place ther'll be,
Just fit for sich a chap as me.
Green fields, an trees, an brooks, an flaars,
Are treasures we can all call awrs,
An when hooam is earth's fairest spot
One should be thankful for his lot.
Aw'm nooan contented,—nay, net aw!
Aw nivver con be tho' aw try;
But aw enjoy th' gooid things aw have,
An if aw for moor blessins crave,
It's more for th' sake o'th' wife an bairns,
To spare them my life's ups an daans.
Well, yo may laff, an sneerin say,
Aw'm praad an selfish i' mi way;—
Maybe aw am,—but yo'll agree,
Ther's few fowk better off nor me.
A Warnin.
A'a dear, what it is to be big!
To be big i' one's own estimation,
To think if we shake a lawse leg,
'At th' world feels a tremblin sensation.
To fancy 'at th' nook 'at we fill,
Wod be empty if we worn't in it,
'At th' universe wheels wod stand still,
If we should neglect things a minnit.
To be able to tell all we meet,
Just what they should do or leeav undone;
To be crammed full o' wisdom an wit,
Like a college professor throo Lundun.
To show statesmen ther faults an mistaks,—
To show whear philosifers blunder;
To prove parsons an doctors all quacks,
An strike men o' science wi' wonder.
But aw've nooaticed, theas varry big men,
'At strut along th' streets like a bantam,
Nivver do mich 'at meeans owt thersen,
For they're seldom at hand when yo want 'em.
At ther hooam, if yo chonce to call in,
Yo may find 'em booath humble an civil,
Wol th' wife tries to draand th' childer's din,
Bi yellin an raisin the devil.