Yorkshire Lyrics Part 32

Thi face has turned a breet sky blue, Thi yure's a bottle green!"

Shoo flew to th' lukkin gla.s.s to see, An then her heart stood still; "That villan sed 'he'd dee for me,'

Aw'll swing for him, aw will!"

An then shoo set her daan o'th flooar, As if her heart wod braik; An th' childer gethered raand to rooar, But th' old fowk nivver spaik.

I' time her grief grew less, ov course, Shoo raased hersen at last; Shoo weshed, an swill'd, but things lukt worse, For th' color still proved fast.

They sent a bobby after th' chap, He browt him in a crack; Says he, "It's been a slight mishap, Aw've made a small mistak.

But just to prove aw meant noa ill, Mi offer, friends, is this; If shoo'll consent to say 'I will,'

Aw'll tak her as shoo is.

Tho' shoo luks black befooar we're wed, That's sewer to wear away; Aw'd like to own her yure soa red, Until time turns it grey."

Says shoo, "awm feeard tha n.o.bbut mocks, Tha'rt strivin to misleead."

"Nay la.s.s," he sed, "aw've turned thy locks, But tha's fair turned my heead."

"Aw think yo'd better far agree,"

Sed th' old fowk in a breeath; "Will ta ha me?" "Will ta ha me?"

"An nah we'll stick till deeath."

Sooin after that th' law made 'em one, An sin that time awm sewer; He ne'er regretted th' job he'd done, Nor shoo her ruddy yure.

An when fowk ax'd her ha to get Sich joy as hers, shoo sed, "If anxious for some gradely wit, Just goa an boil thi heead."

Try a Smile.

This world's full o' trubbles fowk say, but aw daat it, Yo'll find as mich pleasure as pain; Some grummel at times when they might do withaat it, An oft withaat reason complain.

A fraan on a face nivver adds to its beauty, Then let us forget for a while Theas small disappointments, an mak it a duty, To try the effect ov a smile.

Though the sun may be claaded he'll shine aght agean, If we n.o.bbut have patience an wait, An its sewer to luk breeter for th' shadda ther's been; Then let's banish all fooilish consait, If we'd nivver noa sorrow joys on us wod pall, Soa awr hearts let us all reconcile To tak things as they come, makkin th' best on 'em all, An cheer up a faint heart wi' a smile.

Growin Old.

Old age, aw can feel's creepin on, Aw've noa taste for what once made me glad; Mi love ov wild marlocks is gooan, An aw know awm noa longer a lad.

When aw luk back at th' mile stooans aw've pa.s.s'd, As aw've thowtlessly stroll'd o'er life's track, Awm foorced to acknowledge at last, 'At its mooastly been all a mistak.

Aw know aw can ne'er start agean, An what's done aw can nivver undo, All aw've gained has been simply to leearn Ha mi hooaps, one bi one's fallen throo.

When a lad, wi' moor follies nor brains, Aw thowt what awd do as a man; An aw caanted mi profits an gains, As a lad full ov hooap only can.

An aw thowt when mi beard 'gan to grow, Aw could leead all this world in a string, Yet it tuk but a few years to show 'At aw couldn't do onny sich thing.

But aw tewd an aw fowt neet an day, An detarmined awd nivver give in, Hooap still cheered me on wi' her ray, An awd faith 'at i'th' long run awst win.

A fortun aw felt wor for me, An joy seem'd i'th' grasp o' mi list; An aw laffd as aw clutched it wi' glee, But someha or other it miss'd.

Still, aw pluckt up mi courage once moor, An aw struggled wi' might an wi' main, But awd noa better luck nor befooar, An mi harvest wor sorrow an pain.

An nah, when mi best days are pa.s.sed, An mi courage an strength are all spent; Aw've to stand o' one side an at last, Wi' mi failures an falls rest content, In this world some pleasures to win, Aw've been trubbled an tried an perplext, An aw've thowtlessly rushed into sin, An ne'er cared for a treasure i'th' next.

As mi limbs get moor feeble an waik, An aw know sooin mi race will be run; Mi heart ommost feels fit to braik, When aw think what aw've left all undone.

Nah, aw've n.o.bbut th' f.a.g end o' mi days To prepare for a world withaat end; Soa its time aw wor changin mi ways.

For ther's noa time like the present to mend

Gooid Bye, Old Lad.

Ge me thi hand, mi trusty friend, Mi own is all aw ha to gie thi; Let friendship simmer on to th' end;-- G.o.d bless thi! I an gooid luck be wi' thi!

Aw prize thee just for what tha art;-- Net for thi bra.s.s, thi clooas, or station; But just becoss aw know thi heart, Finds honest worth an habitation.

Ther's monny a suit ov glossy black, Worn bi a chap 'at's nowt to back it: Wol monny a true, kind heart may rack, Lapt in a tattered fushten jacket.

Ther's monny a smilin simperin knave, Wi' oppen hand will wish 'gooid morrow,'

'At wodn't gie a meg to save A luckless mate, or ease his sorrow.

Praichers an taichers seem to swarm, But sad to tell,--th' plain honest fact is, They'd rayther bid yo shun all harm, Nor put ther taichin into practice.

But thee,--aw read thee like a book,-- Aw judge thi booath bi word an action; An th' mooar aw know, an th' mooar aw look, An th' mooar awm fill'd wi' satisfaction.

Soa once agean, Gooid bye, old lad!

An till we meet agean, G.o.d bless thi!

May smilin fortun mak thi glad, An may noa ills o' life distress thi.

That Drabbled Brat.

Goa hooam,--tha little drabbled brat, Tha'll get thi deeath o' cold; Whear does ta live? Just tell me that, Befooar aw start to scold.

Thart sypin weet,--dooant come near me!

Tha luks hawf pined to deeath; An what a cough tha has! dear me!

It ommost taks thi breeath.

Them een's too big for thy wee face,-- Thi curls are sad neglected; Poor child! thine seems a woeful case, Noa wonder tha'rt dejected.

Nah, can't ta tell me who tha art?

Tha needn't think aw'll harm thi; Here, tak this sixpence for a start, An find some place to warm thi.

Tha connot spaik;--thi een poor thing, Are filled wi' tears already; Tha connot even start to sing, Thi voice is soa unsteady.

It isn't long tha'll ha to rooam, An sing thi simple ditty; Tha doesn't seem to be at hooam, I' this big bustlin city.

It's hard to tell what's best to be When seets are soa distressin; For to sich helpless bairns as thee, Deeath seems to be a blessin.

Some hear thi voice an pa.s.s thi by, An feel noa touch o' sorrow; An, maybe, them at heave a sigh, Laff it away to-morrow.