But this is a' of little use,
For what aw dee is never reet;
She's like a larm-bell i' the house,
Ding-donging at me day and neet.
If aw sud get ma wark owre suin,
She's flaid to deeth aw've left some byet;
And if aw's till the efternuin,
Aw's drunk because aw is se lyet.
Feed us and cleed us weel she may,
As she gets a'ways money plenty:
For every day, for mony a pay,
Aw've hew'd and putten twee-and-twenty.
'Tis true aw sometimes get a gill—
But then she a'ways gets her grog;
And if aw din't her bottle fill,
Aw's then a skin-flint, snock-drawn dog.
She buys me, te, the warst o' meat,
Bad bullock's liver—houghs and knees
Tough stinking tripe, and awd cow's feet—
Shanks full o' mawks, and half nought cheese.
Of sic she feeds the bairns and me,
The tyesty bits she tyeks hersel';
In whilk ne share nor lot have we,
Excepting sometimes i' the smell.
The crowdy is wor daily dish,
But varra different is their minny's;
For she gets a' her heart can wish
In strang lyac'd tea and singin' hinnies.
Ma canny bairns luik pale and wan,
Their bits and brats are varra scant;
Their mother's feasts rob them o' scran—
For wilfu' waste makes woefu' want.
She peels the taties wi' her teeth,
And spreads the butter wi' her thoom;
She blaws the kail wi' stinking breeth,
Where mawks and caterpillars soom!
She's just a gannin' heap o' muck,
Where durts of a' description muster;
For dishclout serves her apron nuik
As weel as snotter clout and duster!