"Let to-morrow take care of to-morrow,
Leave things of the future to fate,
What's the use to anticipate sorrow?
Life's troubles come never too late.
If to hope over much be an error
'Tis one that the wise have preferred
And how often have hearts been in terror
Of evils that never occurred?"
Ther's summat for yo to think abaat, an let th' July sunshine enter into yor hearts. It'll help to chase away th' claads o' care, an maybe, buried hooaps may yet blossom into a harvest ov happiness an joy.
Fortun, they say knocks once at ivvery man's door, but varry oft th' man doesn't happen to be in, an i' that case he sends his dowter, but ther's nubdy getten a welcome for Miss Fortun, but once shoo gets in, shoo's a beggar to stick. Better try to mak friends wi th' old man.