D—mn, a blether aw call it! by gocks, aw am reet,
For o' silk dipt iv leadeater melted
It's myed of, an' Lord! what a wonderful seet,
When the gun tell'd that it was filated.
'Twas just like the boiler at wor Bella Pit,
O'er which were a great cabbage net,
Which fasten'd, by a parcel of strings sae fit,
A corf for the mannie to sit.

As aw sat at me ease aw cud hear a' the folk
Gie their notions about the Balloon;
Aw thowt aw shud brust when aw heurd their strange talk,
Aboot the man's gaun to the moon.
Says yen, iv a whisper, Aw think aw hev heurd
He is carryin a letter to Bonny,
That's ower the sea to flee like a burd;
The thowt, by my jinkers! was funny.

A chep wiv a fyece like a poor country bumpkin,
Sed he heurd, but may hap tisent true,
That the thing whilk they saw was a great silken pumpkin
By me eye, what a lilly-ba-loo!
Another said, Sadler (for that is the nyem
O' the man) may pay dear for his frolic,
When he's up iv the clouds (a stree for his fame!)
His guts may have twangs of the cholic.

The man a' this time the great blether was filling,
Wiv stuff that wad myed a dog sick,
It smelt just as though they were garvage distilling,
Till at length it was full as a tick.
They next strain'd the ropes to keep the thing steady,
Put colley and drams iv the boat;
Then crack went the cannon, to say it was ready,
An' aw see'd the blether afloat.

Not a word was there heurd, a' eyes were a starin,
For the off ganen moment was near:
To see sic a crowd se whisht was amazen,
Aw thowt aw fand palish and queer.
After waitin a wee, aw see'd him come to,
Shaken hands, as aw thowt, wiv his friend;
Of his mountin the corf aw had a full view,
As he sat his ways down at the end.

The ropes were then cut, and upwards he went,
A wavin his flag i' the air;
Ev'ry heed was turn'd up, and a' eye's wur intent
On this comical new flying chair:
It went it's ways up like a lavrick sae hee,
Till it luckt 'bout the size of a skyate;
When in tiv a cloud it was lost t' the e'e,
Aw wisht the man better i' fate.

BOB CRANKY'S ADIEU.

Fareweel, fareweel, maw comely pet!
Aw's forc'd three weeks to leave thee;
Aw's doon for par'ment duty set,
O dinna let it grieve thee!
Maw hinny! wipe them een, sae breet,
That mine wi' love did dazzle;
When tha' heart's sad can mine be leet?
Come, ho'way get a gill o' beer,
Thee heart te cheer:
An' when thou sees me mairch away,
Whiles in, whiles oot
O' step, nae doot,
'Bob Cranky's gane,' thou'lt sobbing say,
'A sowgering to Newcassel!'

Come, dinna, dinna whinge an' whipe,
Like yammering Isbel Macky;
Cheer up, maw hinny! leet thee pipe,
An' tyek a blast o' backy!
It's but for yen an' twenty days,
The folks's een aw'll dazzle.—
Prood, swagg'ring i' maw fine reed claes:
Ods heft! maw pit claes—dis thou hear?
Are warse o' wear;
Mind cloot them weel, when aw's away;
An' a posie goon
Aw'll buy thee soon,
An' thou's drink thy tea—aye, twice a-day,
When aw cum frae Newcassel.