Yorkshire Lyrics Part 33

For tha may sing, or sigh, or cry; Nay,--tha may dee if needs be; An th' busy craads 'at hurries by, Streeams on an nivver heeds thee.

But ther is One, hears ivvery grooan, We needn't to remind Him; An He'll net leeav thi all alooan; G.o.d give thee grace to find Him!

An may be send His angels daan, Thi feet throo dangers guidin; Until He sets thee in His craan,-- A gem, in light abidin.

Song for th' Hard Times, (1879.)

Nah chaps, pray dooant think it's a sarmon awm praichin, If aw tell yo some nooations at's entered mi pate; For ther's nubdy should turn a cold shoulder to taichin, If th' moral be whoalsum an th' matter be reight.

We're goin throo a time o' bad trade an depression, An scoors o' poor crayturs we meet ivvery day, 'At show bi ther faces they've had a hard lesson:-- That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

Aw couldn't but think as throo th' streets aw wor walkin, An lukt i' shop winders whear fin'ry's displayed, If they're able to sell it we're fooils to keep tawkin, An liggin all th' blame on this slackness o' trade.

Tho times may be hard, yet ther's wealth, aye, an plenty, An if fowk do ther duty aw'll venter to say, Ther's noa reason a honest man's plate should be empty:-- That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

When it's freezin an snowin, an cold winds are blowin, Aw see childer hawf covered wi two or three rags; As they huddle together to shelter throo th' weather, An think thersen lucky to find some dry flags; Wol others i' carriages, gay wi fine paintin, Lapt up i' warm furs, they goa dashin away; Do they think o' them poor little childer at's faintin?-- That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

All honor to them who have proved thersen willin, To help the unfortunate ones from their stooar; An if freely bestowed, be it pence, pound, or shillin, They shall nivver regret what they've given to th' poor.

An if we all do what we can for our naybor, We shall sooin drive this bitter starvation away; Till th' time when gooid wages reward honest labor:-- That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

But theas trubbles an trials may yet prove a blessin, If when th' sun shines agean we all strive to mak hay; An be careful to waste nowt o' drinkin an dressin, But aght ov fair wages put summat away.

When adversity's claad agean hangs o'er the nation, We can wait for th' return ov prosperity's ray; An noa mooar find awr land i' this sad situation:-- That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

An ther's one matter mooar, at aw cannot but mention, For it points aght a moral at shouldn't be missed; Can't yo see ha they use ivvery aid an invention, To grind daan yor wage when yo cannot resist.

If yo strike, they dooant care, for yor foorced to knock under, Yor net able to live if they stop off yer pay; Will it bring workin men to ther senses aw wonder?-- That's a nooation aw had as aw went on mi way.

Some are lukkin for help from this chap or tother, An pinnin ther faith on pet parliament men; But to feight ther own battles finds them lots o' bother, An if help's what yo want yo mun luk to yorsen.

If we're blessed wi gooid health, an have brains, booans, an muscle, An keep a brave heart, we shall yet win the fray; An be wiser an stronger for havin this tussle:-- That's a nooation held then, an it holds to this day.

Stir thi La.s.s!

Come la.s.sie be stirrin, for th' lark's up ith' lift, An th' dew drops are hastin away; An th' mist oth' hillside is beginnin to shift, An th' flaars have all wakkened for th' day.

Tha promised to meet me beside this thorn tree, An darlin, thi sweet face awm langing to see; When tha arn't here ther's noa beauty for me; Soa stir thi la.s.s, stir thi, Or else awst come for thi, For tha knows what tha tell'd me last neet tha wod be.

Come la.s.sie be stirrin, awm here all alooan; Tha'rt sewerly net slumb'rin still; Th' lark's finished his tune an th' dewdrops have gooan, An th' mist's rolled away ovver th' hill.

Net a wink have aw slept sin aw left thee last neet, Lukkin forrad to th' time when tha sed we should meet; But it's past, an mi sweetheart is still aght oth' seet; But its cappin, la.s.s, cappin, 'At tha should be nappin, When tha knows what tha promised at th' end o' awr street.

Awm weary o' waitin, aw'll off to mi wark, Awst be bated a quarter,--that's flat;-- If tha's n.o.bbut been fooilin me just for a lark, Tha may find thi mistak when to lat.

Aw wanted to mak thi mi wife, for aw thowt, Tha'd prove thisen just sich a mate as aw sowt; But it seems tha'rt a false-hearted, young gooid-for-nowt!

But aw see thi, la.s.s, see thi!

G.o.d bless thi! forgie me!

For tha'rt truer an fairer an dearer nor owt.

Tother Day.

As awm sittin enjoyin mi pipe, An tooastin mi shins beside th' hob, Aw find ther's a harvest quite ripe, O' thowts stoored away i' mi n.o.b.

An aw see things as plainly to-neet, 'At long years ago vanished away,-- As if they'd but just left mi seet, Tother day.

Aw remember mi pranks when at schooil, When mischievous tricks kept me soa thrang; An mi maister declared me a fooil,-- An maybe, he wor net soa far wrang.

Ha mi lessons awd skip throo, or miss, To give me mooar chonces for play; An aw fancy aw went throo all this, Tother day.

Aw remember mi coortin days too,-- What a felly aw fancied misen; An aw swore at mi sweetheart wor true,-- For mi faith knew noa falterin then.

Aw remember ha jealous an mad, Aw felt, when shoo turned me away, An left a poor heartbrokken lad, Tother day.

Aw remember when hung o' mi arm, To th' church went mi blushin' young bride; Ha aw glooated o'er ivvery charm, An swell'd like a frog i' mi pride.

An th' world seem'd a fooitball to me, To kick when inclined for a play; An life wor a jolly gooid spree,-- Tother day.

Aw remember mi day dreeams o' fame, An aw reckoned what wealth aw should win But alas! aw confess to mi shame,-- Aw leeav offwhear aw thowt to begin, Mi chief joy is to dreeam o' what's pa.s.s'd, For mi future, one hope sheds its ray, An awm driftin along varry fast, To that day.

Happy Sam's Song.

Varry monny years ago, when this world wor rather young, A varry wicked sarpent, wi' a varry oily tongue, Whispered summat varry nowty into Mistress Adam's ear; An shoo pluckt a little apple 'at soa temptingly hung near.

Then shoo ait this dainty fruit shoo'd been tell'd shoo mudn't touch, An shoo gave some to her husband, but it wornt varry much:-- But sin that fatal day, he wor tell'd, soa it wor sed, 'At henceforth wi' a sweeaty broo, he'd have to earn his breead.

An all awr lords an princes, an ladies great an grand, Have all sprung off that common stock a laborer i' the land; Soa aw think ther airs an graces are little but a sham, An aw wodn't change 'em places wi' hardworkin, Happy Sam.

Awm contented wi' mi share, Rough an ready tho' mi fare, An aw strive to do mi duty to mi naybor; If yo wonder who aw am, Well,--mi name is Happy Sam; Awm a member ov the mult.i.tude who labor.

When aw've worked throo morn to neet for a varry little bra.s.s, Yet a smilin welcome greets me from mi buxom, bonny la.s.s; An two tiny little toddles come to meet me at mi door, An they think noa less ov daddy's kiss becoss that daddy's poor; An as aw sit to smook mi pipe, mi treasures on mi knee; Aw think ther's net a man alive 'at's hawf as rich as me; Aw wodn't change mi station wi' a king upon his throne, For ivvery joy araand me, honest labor's made mi own.

An we owe noa man a penny 'at we're net prepared to pay, An we're tryin hard to save a bit agean a rainy day.

Soa aw cry a fig for care! Awm contented as aw am,-- An bless the fate 'at made me plain, hardworkin, Happy Sam.

Awm contented wi' mi share, Rough an ready tho' mi fare, An aw strive to do mi duty to mi naybor; If yo wonder who aw am, Well, mi name is Happy Sam, Awm a member ov the mult.i.tude who labor.

Gradely Weel off.

Draw thi cheer nigher th' foir, put th' knittin away, Put thi tooas up o'th' fender to warm: We've booath wrought enuff, aw should think, for a day, An a rest willn't do us mich harm.

Awr lot's been a rough en, an tho' we've grown old, We shall have to toil on to its end; An altho' we can booast nawther silver nor gold, Yet we ne'er stood i'th' want ov a Friend.

Soa cheer up, old la.s.s, Altho' we've grown grey, An we havn't mich bra.s.s, Still awr hearts can be gay: For we've health an contentment an soa we can say, 'At we're gradely weel off after all.

As aw coom ovver th' moor, a fine carriage went by, An th' young squire wor sittin inside; An wol makkin mi manners aw smothered a sigh, As for th' furst time aw saw his young bride.

Shoo wor white as a sheet, an soa sickly an sad, Wol aw could'nt but pity his lot; Thinks aw, old an grey, yet awm richer to-day, For aw've health an content i' mi cot.

Soa cheer up, old la.s.s, &c.

Gie me th' pipe off o'th' hob, an aw'll tak an odd whiff, For aw raillee feel thankful to-neet; An altho' mi booans wark, an mi joints are all stiff, Yet awm able to keep mi heart leet.

If we've had a fair share ov th' world's trubble an care, We mun nivver forget i' times past, Ther wor allus one Friend, His help ready to lend, An He'll nivver forsake us at last.