Yorkshire Lyrics Part 19

"Well time 'ul try," his mother sed,-- An time at last did try; For nivver sich a hungry beeast Had been fed in a sty.

"What's th' weight o'th' long legged pig, Billy!"

Wor th' neighbors' daily cry; "Aw connot tell yo yet," sed Bill, "Aw'll weigh it bye an bye."

An hard poor Billy persevered, But all to noa avail, It swallow'd all th' mait it could get, An wod ha swallow'd th' pail; But Billy tuk gooid care to stand O'th' tother side o'th' rail; But fat it didn't gain as mich As what 'ud greeas its tail.

Pack after pack o' mail he bowt, Until he'd bowt fourteen; But net a bit o' difference I'th' pig wor to be seen: Its legs an snowt wor just as long As ivver they had been; Poor Billy caanted rib bi rib An heaved a sigh between.

One day he mix'd a double feed, An put it into th' troff; "Tha greedy lukkin beeast," he sed, "Aw'll awther stawl thee off, Or else aw'll brust thi hide--that is Unless 'at its to toff!"

An then he left it wol he went His mucky clooas to doff.

It worn't long befoor he coom To see hah matters stood; He luk'd at th' troff, an thear it wor, Five simple bits o' wood, As cleean sc.r.a.ped aght as if it had Ne'er held a bit o' food; "Tha slotch!" sed Bill, "aw do believe Tha'd ait me if tha could."

Next day he browt a butcher, For his patience had been tried, An wi a varry deeal to do, Its legs wi' rooap they tied; An then his shinin knife he drew An stuck it in its side-- It mud ha been a crockadile, Bi th' thickness ov its hide.

But blooid began to flow, an then Its long legg'd race wor run; They scalded, sc.r.a.ped, an hung it up, An when it all wor done, Fowk coom to guess what weight it wor, An monny a bit o' fun They had, for Billy's mother sed, "It ought to weigh a ton."

Billy wor walkin up an daan, Dooin nowt but fume an fidge!

He luk'd at th' pig--then daan he set, I'th nook o'th' window ledge, He saw th' back booan wor stickin aght, Like th' thin end ov a wedge; It luk'd like an owd blanket Hung ovver th' winterhedge.

His mother rooar'd an th' wimmen sigh'd, But th' chaps did nowt but laff; Poor Billy he could hardly bide, To sit an hear ther chaff-- Then up he jumped, an off he run, But whear fowk nivver knew; An what wor th' war'st, when mornin coom, Th' deead pig had mizzled too.

Th' chaps wander'd th' country far an near, Until they stall'd thersen; But nawther Billy nor his pig Coom hooam agean sin then; But oft fowk say, i'th' deead o'th' neet, Near Shibden's ruined mill, The gooast o' Billy an his pig May be seen runnin still.

MORAL.

Yo fowk 'at's tempted to goa buy Be careful what yo do; Dooant be persuaded 'coss "it's _cheap_,"

For if yo do yo'll rue; Dooant think its lowerin to yor sen To ax a friend's advice, Else like poor Billy's pig, 't may be Bowt dear at onny price.

Aght o' Wark.

Aw've been laikin for ommost eight wick, An aw can't get a day's wark to do!

Aw've trailed abaat th' streets, wol aw'm sick An aw've worn mi clog-soils ommost throo.

Aw've a wife an three childer at hooam, An aw know they're all lukkin at th' clock, For they think it's high time aw should come, An bring 'em a morsel 'o jock.

A'a dear! it's a pitiful case When th' cubbord is empty an bare; When want's stamped o' ivvery face, An yo hav'nt a meal yo can share.

Today as aw walked into th' street, Th' squire's carriage went rattlin past; An aw thowt 'at it hardly luk'd reet, For aw had'nt brokken mi fast.

Them horses, aw knew varry weel, Wi' ther trappins all shinin i' gold, Had nivver known th' want of a meal, Or a shelter to keep 'em throo th' cold.

Even th' dogs have enuff an to spare, Tho' they ne'er worked a day i' ther life; But ther maisters forget they should care For a chap 'at's three bairns an a wife.

They give dinners at th' hall ivvery neet, An ther's carriages standin bi'th' scooar, An all th' windows are blazin wi' leet, But they seldom give dinners to th' poor.

I' mi pocket aw hav'nt a rap, Nor a crust, nor a handful o' mail; An unless we can get it o'th' strap, We mun pine, or mun beg, or else stail.

But hooam'ards aw'll point mi owd clogs To them three little lambs an ther dam;-- Aw wish they wor horses or dogs, For its n.o.bbut poor fowk 'at's to clam.

But they say ther is One 'at can see, An has promised to guide us safe throo; Soa aw'll live on i'hopes, an' surelee, He'll find a chap summat to do.

That's a Fact.

"A'a Mary aw'm glad 'at that's thee!

Aw need thy advice, la.s.s, aw'm sure;-- Aw'm all ov a mooild tha can see, Aw wor nivver i' this way afoor.

Aw've net slept a wink all th' neet throo; Aw've been twirlin abaat like a worm, An' th' blankets gate felter'd, la.s.s, too-- Tha nivver saw cloas i' sich form.

Aw'll tell thee what 't all wor abaght-- But promise tha'll keep it reight squat; For aw wod'nt for th' world let it aght, But aw can't keep it in--tha knows that.

We'd a meetin at th' schooil yesterneet, An Jimmy wor thear,--tha's seen Jim?

An he hutch'd cloise to me in a bit, To ax me for th' number o'th' hymn; Aw thowt 't wor a gaumless trick, For he heeard it geen aght th' same as me; An he just did th' same thing tother wick,-- It made fowk tak nooatice, dos't see.

An when aw wor gooin towards hooam, Aw heeard som'dy comin behund: 'Twor pitch dark, an aw thowt if they coom, Aw should varry near sink into th' graund.

Aw knew it wor Jim bi his traid, An aw tried to get aght ov his gate; But a'a! tha minds, la.s.s, aw wor flaid, Aw wor nivver i' sich en a state.

Then aw felt som'dy's arm raand my shawl, An aw said, "nah, leeav loise or aw'll screeam!

Can't ta let daycent la.s.ses alooan, Consarn thi up! what does ta mean?"

But he stuck to mi arm like a leach, An he whispered a word i' mi ear; It tuk booath mi breeath an mi speech, For aw'm varry sooin thrown aght o' gear.

Then he squeezed me cloise up to his sel, An he kussed me, i' spite o' mi teeth: Aw says, "Jimmy, forshame o' thisel!"

As sooin as aw'd getten mi breeath.

But he wod'nt be quiet, for he sed 'At he'd loved me soa true an soa long-- Aw'd ha geen a ear off o' my ye'd To get loise--but tha knows he's soa strong.-- Then he tell'd me he wanted a wife, An he begged 'at aw wodn't say nay;-- Aw'd ne'er heeard sich a tale i' mi life, Aw wor fesen'd whativver to say; 'Coss tha knows aw've a likin for Jim; But yo can't allus say what yo meean; For aw tremb'ld i' ivvery limb, Wol he kussed me agean an agean.

But at last aw began to give way, For, raylee, he made sich a fuss, An aw kussed him an all--for they say, Ther's nowt costs mich less nor a kuss.

Then he left me at th' end o' awr street, An aw've felt like a fooil all th' neet throo; But if aw should see him to neet, What wod ta advise me to do?

But dooant spaik a word--tha's noa need, For aw've made up mi mind ha to act, For he's th' grandest lad ivver aw seed, An aw like him th' best too--that's a fact!"

Babby Burds.

Aw wander'd aght one summer's morn, Across a meadow newly shorn; Th' sun wor shinin breet and clear, An fragrant scents rose up i'th' air, An all wor still.

When, as my steps wor idly rovin, Aw coom upon a seet soa lovin!

It fill'd mi heart wi' tender feelin, As daan aw sank beside it, kneelin O'th' edge o'th' hill.

It wor a little skylark's nest, An two young babby burds, undrest, Wor gapin wi' ther beaks soa wide, Callin for mammy to provide Ther mornin's meal; An high aboon ther little hooam, Th' saand o' daddy's warblin coom; Ringin soa sweetly o' mi ear, Like breathins throo a purer sphere, He sang soa weel.

Ther mammy, a few yards away, Wor hoppin on a bit o' hay; Too feeard to coom, too bold to flee; An watchin me wi' troubled e'e, Shoo seem'd to say: "Dooant touch my bonny babs, young man!

Ther daddy does the best he can To cheer yo with his sweetest song; An thoase 'll sing as weel, ere long, Soa let 'em stay."

"Tha needn't think aw'd do 'em harm-- Come shelter 'em and keep 'em warm!

For aw've a little nest misel, An two young babs, aw'm praad to tell, 'At's precious too; An they've a mammy watching thear, 'At howds them little ens as dear, An dearer still, if that can be, Nor what thease youngens are to thee, Soa come,--nah do!

"A'a well!--tha'rt shy, tha hops away,-- Tha doesn't trust a word aw say; Tha thinks aw'm here to rob an plunder, An aw confess aw dunnot wonder-- But tha's noa need; Aw'll leave yo to yorsels,--gooid bye!

For nah aw see yor daddy's nigh; He's dropt that strain soa sweet and strong; He loves yo better nor his song-- He does indeed."

Aw walk'd away, and sooin mi ear Caught up the saand o' warblin clear; Thinks aw, they're happy once agean; Aw'm glad aw didn't prove so meean To rob that nest; For they're contented wi' ther lot, Nor envied me mi little cot; An in this world, as we goa throo, It is'nt mich gooid we can do, An do awr best.