Revised Edition of Poems Part 5

So I gat ower a fence ther wor, An' peeping threw a gate, Determin'd to be satisfied, If I'd a while to wait.

At last two figures com ta t'spot Whear I hed hid misel, Then walkers'-earth and brimstone, Most horridly did smell.

Wun on em hed a nine-tail'd cat, His face as black as sooit, His name, I think wor Nickey Ben, He hed a clovven fooit.

An' t'other wor all skin an' bone His name wor Mr. Deeath; Withaat a st.i.tch o' clooas he wor, An' seem'd quite aght o' breeath.

He hed a scythe, I plainly saw, He held it up aloft, Just same as he wor bahn ta maw Owd Jack O'Doodle's Croft.

"Where are ta bahn ta neet, grim phiz?"

Sed Nickey, wi' a grin, "Tha knaws I am full up below, An' cannot tak more in."

"What is't ta thee?" said Spinnel Shanks, "Tha ruffin of a dog, I'm n.o.bbut bahn mi raands ageean, Ta see wun John o't' Bog.

"I cannot see it fer mi life, What it's ta dew wi' thee; Go mind thi awn affairs, owd Nick, An' nivver thee heed me."

"It is my business, Spinnel Shanks, Whativver tha may say, Fer I been rostin' t'human race Fer monny a weary day."

Just luke what wark, I've hed wi' thee, This last two yer or so; Wi' Germany an Italy, An' even Mexico.

An' then tha knaws that Yankey broil Browt in some thaasands more; An' sooin fra Abyssinia, They'll bring black Theodore.

"So drop that scythe, owd farren deeath, Let's rest a toathree wick; Fer what wi' t'seet o't' frying pan, Tha knows I'm ommost sick."

"I sall do nowt o't' sort," says Deeath, Who s.p.a.ck it wi' a grin, I's just do as I like fer thee, So tha can hod thi din."

This made owd Nick fair raging mad, An' liftin' up his whip, He gav owd Spinnel Shanks a lash Across his upper lip.

Then like a neighin' steed, lean Shanks, To give owd Nick leg bail, He started off towards the tahn, Wi' Nick hard on his trail.

Then helter-skelter off they went, As ower t'fence I lape; I thowt-well, if it matters owt, I've made a nice escape.

But nah the mooin began ta shine As breet as it could be; An dahn the vale of t'Aire I luked, Whear I could plainly see.

The trees wor deeadly pale wi' snaw, An' t'windin' Aire wor still, An' all wor quite save t'hullats, At wor screamin' up o't' hill.

Owd Rivock End an' all arahnd Luk'd like some fiendish heead, Fer t'more I star'd an' t'more I thowt It did resemble t'deead.

The Friendly Oaks wor alter'd nah, Ta what I'd seen afore; An' luk'd as though they'd nivver be T'owd Friendly Oaks no more.

Fer wun wor like a giant grim, His nooas com to a point, An' wi' a voice like thunner sed- "The times are aaght o't'joint!"

An' t'other, like a whippin'-post, Bud happen net as thin, Sed "T' times el alter yet, owd fooil, So pray nah, hod thi din!"

I tuke no farther gawm o' them, But paddl'd on mi way; Fer when I ivver mak a vah, I stick ta what I say.

I heddant goan so far agean, Afoar I heeard a voice, Exclaiming-wi' a fearful groan- "Go mak a hoil i' t'ice!"

I turned ma rahnd wheer t'sahnd com fro, An' cautiously I bowed, Sayin' "Thenk ye, Mr. Magic Voice, I'm flaid o' gettin' cowd."

But nah a sudden shack tuke place, A sudden change o' scene; Fer miles wheer all wor white afoar, Wor nah a bottle-green.

Then com a woman donn'd i' white, A mantle gert shoo wore; A nicer lukin', smarter form I nivver saw afoar.

Her featers did resemble wun O' that kind-hearted lot, 'At's ivver ready to relieve The poor man in his cot.

Benevolence wor strongly mark'd Upon her n.o.ble heead; An' on her bruhst ye might ha' read, "Who dees fer want o' breead?"

In fact, a kinder-hearted soul Owd Yorkshire cuddant boast; An' who wod feel the least alarmed Ta talk ta sitch a ghoast?

I didn't feel at all afraid, As nearer me shoo drew: I sed-"Good evening, Mrs. Ghoast, Hahivver do ye dew?"

Sho nivver seem'd to tak no gawm, Bud pointed up at t'mooin, An' beckon'd me ta follow her Reight dahn bi t'Wattery Loin.

So on we went, an' dahn we turn'd, An' nawther on us spak; Bud nah an' then shoo twined her heead, Ta see if I'd runn'd back.

At t'last sho stopped and turned arahnd, An' luk'd ma fair i' t'een; 'Twor nah I picked it aght at wunce, Sho wor no human bein'.

Sho rave a paper fra her bruhst, Like some long theatre bill; An' then shoo sed "Wake mortal, Will ta read to me this will?

"Bud first, afoar tha starts to read, I'll tell thee who I is; Tha lukes a dacent chap eniff- I judge it by thi phiz.

"Well, I've a job fer thee to do- That is, if tha will do it; I think tha'rt t'likliest man I knaw, Becos tha art a poet.

If I am not mistaen, mi friend, I often hear thi name; I think they call tha John o' t'Bog";- Says I-"Owd la.s.s, it's t'same."

"It's just so mony years this day, I knaw it by mi birth, Sin' I departed mortal life, An' left this wicked earth.

"But ere I closed these een to go Into eternity, I thowt I'd dew a n.o.ble act, A deed o' charity.

"I hed a bit o' bra.s.s, tha knaws, Some land an' property; I thowt it might be useful, John, To folks i' poverty.

"So then I made a will o't' lot, Fer that did suit mi mind; I planned it as I thowt wor t'best, To benefit mankind.

"I left a lot ta t' Grammar Skooil; By reading t'will tha'll see, That ivvery body's barn, tha knaws, May hev ther skooilin' free.

"An' if tha be teetotal, John- Tha may think it a fault- To ivvery woman liggin' in I gav a peck o' malt.

"Bud t'biggest bulk o' bra.s.s 'at's left, As tha'll hev heeard afooar, Wor to be dealt half-yearly Among ahr Keighley poor.

"I certainly did mak a flaw, Fer which I've rued, alas!

'Twor them 'at troubled t'parish, John, Sud hev no Feffee Bra.s.s.

"An' nah, if tha will be so kind, Go let mi trustees knaw 'At I sall be oblidg'd to them To null that little flaw.

"An' will ta meushun this an' all, Wal tha's an interview?- Tell 'em to share t'moast bra.s.s to t'poor, Whativver else they do.

"Then I sall rest an' be at peace, Both here an' when i' Heaven; When them 'at need it will rejoice Fer t'bit o' bra.s.s I've given;