An Old Man's Christmas Morning.
Its a long time sin thee an' me have met befoor, owd lad,—
Soa pull up thi cheer, an sit daan,
for ther's noabdy moor welcome nor thee:
Thi toppin's grown whiter nor once,—yet mi heart feels glad,
To see ther's a rooas o' thi cheek,
an a bit ov a leet i' thi e'e.
Thi limbs seem to totter an shake, like a crazy owd fence,
'At th' wind maks to tremel an creak;
but tha still fills thi place;
An it shows 'at tha'rt bless'd wi' a bit o' gradely gooid sense,
'At i' spite o' thi years an thi cares,
tha still wears a smile o' thi face.
Come fill up thi pipe—for aw knaw tha'rt reight fond ov a rick,—
An tha'll find a drop o' hooam-brew'd
i' that pint up o'th' hob, aw dar say;
An nah, wol tha'rt tooastin thi shins,
just scale th' foir, an aw'll side thi owd stick,
Then aw'll tell thi some things
'at's happen'd sin tha went away.
An first of all tha mun knaw 'at aw havn't been spar'd,
For trials an troubles have come,
an mi heart has felt well nigh to braik;
An mi wife, 'at tha knaws wor mi pride,
an mi fortuns has shared,
Shoo bent under her griefs, an shoo's flown far,
far away aght o' ther raik.
My life's like an owd gate 'at's nobbut one hinge for support,
An sometimes aw wish—aw'm soa lonely—
at tother 'ud drop off wi' rust;
But it hasn't to be, for it seems Life maks me his spooart,
An Deeath cannot even spare time,
to turn sich an owd man into dust.
Last neet as aw sat an watched th' yule log awd put on to th' fire,
As it crackled, an sparkled, an flared up wi sich gusto an spirit,
An when it wor touched it shone breeter, an flared up still higher,
Till at last aw'd to shift th' cheer
further back for aw couldn't bide near it;
Th' dull saand o'th' church bells coom to tell me
one moor Christmas mornin,
Had come, for its welcome—but ha could aw
welcome it when all alooan?
For th' snow wor fallin soa thickly, an th' cold wind wor mooanin,
An them 'at aw lov'd wor asleep i'
that cold church yard, under a stooan.
Soa aw went to bed an aw slept, an then began dreamin,
'At mi wife stood by mi side,
an smiled, an mi heart left off its beatin,
An aw put aght mi hand, an awoke, an mornin wor gleamin;
An its made me feel sorrowful, an aw connot give ovver freatin.
For aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha' been,
If awd gooan to that place, where ther's noa moor cares,
nor partin, nor sorrow,
For aw know shoo's thear, or that dream aw sud nivver ha seen,
But aw'll try to be patient,
an maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow.