Nay surelee tha's made a mistak;
Tha'rt aght o' thi element here;
Tha may weel goa an peark up o'th' thack,
Thi bonny wings shakin wi' fear.
Aw should think 'at theease rattlin looms
Saand queer sooart o' music to thee;
An tha'll hardly quite relish th' perfumes
O' miln-greease,—what th' quality be.
Maybe tha'rt disgusted wi' us,
An thinks we're a low offald set,
But tha'rt sadly mistaen if tha does,
For ther's hooap an ther's pride in us yet.
Tha wor nobbut a worm once thisen,
An as humble as humble could be;
An tho we nah are like tha wor then,
We may yet be as nobby as thee.
Tha'd to see thi own livin when young,
An when tha grew up tha'd to spin;
An if labor like that wornt wrong,
Tha con hardly call wayvin 'a sin.'
But tha longs to be off aw con tell:
For tha shows 'at tha ar'nt content;
Soa aw'll oppen thee th' window—farewell
Off tha goas, bonny fly!—An it went.
Rejected.
Gooid bye, lass, aw dunnot blame,
Tho' mi loss is hard to bide!
For it wod ha' been a shame,
Had tha ivver been the bride
Of a workin chap like me;
One 'ats nowt but love to gie.
Hard hoof'd neives like thease o' mine.
Surely ne'er wor made to press
Hands so lily-white as thine;
Nor should arms like thease caress
One so slender, fair, an' pure,
'Twor unlikely, lass, aw'm sure.
But thease tears aw cannot stay,—
Drops o' sorrow fallin fast,
Hopes once held aw've put away
As a dream, an think its past;
But mi poor heart loves thi still,
An' wol life is mine it will.