Yorkshire Lyrics Part 36

Then aw thowt o' mi wife an mi childer at hooam, An says aw, aw shall loise a day's wage if aw rooam; Green fields an wild flaars wor ne'er meant for me, Aw mun tew ivvery day wol mi time comes to dee; An then fowk 'll mutter, As aw'm tossed into th' gutter, "It's n.o.bbut a wayver;--oh, fiddle-de-dee!"

Missin Yor Way.

It wor dark an mi way wor across a wild mooar, An noa signs could aw find ov a track, 'Twor a place whear aw nivver had rambled befooar; An aw eearnestly wished misen back.

As aw went on an on mooar uneven it grew, An farther mi feet seem'd to stray, When a chap made me start, as he shaated "Halloa!

Maister, yor missin yor way!"

Wi' his help aw contrived to land safely back hooam, An aw thowt as o'th' hearthstun aw set, What a blessin 'twod be if when other fowk rooam, They should meet sich a friend as aw'd met.

An aw sat daan to write just theas words ov advice, Soa read 'em young Yorksher fowk, pray; An aw'st think for mi trubble aw'm paid a rare price, If aw've saved one throo missin ther way.

Yo lads 'at's but latly begun to wear hats, An fancy yor varry big men; Yo may fancy yor sharps when yor nowt n.o.bbut flats,-- Be advised an tak care o' yorsen.

Shun that gin palace door as yo'd shun a wild beast, Nivver heed what yor comrades may say, Tho' they call yo a fooil, an they mak yo ther jest, Stand stedfast,--they're missin ther way.

Shun them la.s.ses, (G.o.d help 'em!) 'at wander throo th' streets, An cut sich a dash an a swell,-- Who simper an smirk at each chap 'at they meet, Flingin baits to drag victims to h.e.l.l.

They may laff, they may shaat, they may join in a dance, They may spooart ther fine clooas an seem gay; But ther's sorrow within,--yo may see at a glance,-- Poor crayturs! they're missin ther way.

Luk at yond,--but a child,--what's shoo dooin thear?

Shoo sewerly is innocent yet?

Her face isn't brazen,--an see, ther's a tear In her ee an her checks are booath wet, They are tears ov despair, for altho' shoo's soa young, Shoo has sunk deep i' sin to obtain Fine feathers an trinkets, an nah her heart's wrung Wi' remorse, an shoo weeps wi' her pain.

But shoo's gooin away,--let us follo an see Whear her journey soa hurried can tend; Some danger it may be shoo's tryin to flee, Or maybe shoo's i' search ov a friend.

Her hooam, once soa happy, shoo durs'nt goa thear, For shoo's fill'd it wi' sorrow an grief; An shoo turns her een upward, as if wi' a fear, Even Heaven can give noa relief.

Nah shoo's takken a turn, an we've lost her,--but Hark!

What's that cry? It's a cry o' distress!

An o'th' bridge we discover when gropin i'th' dark, A crushed bonnet, a mantle an dress.

An thear shines the river, soa quiet an still, O'er its bed soa uncertain an deep; Can it be? sich a thowt maks one's blooid to run chill,-- Has that la.s.s gooan for ivver to sleep?

Alas! soa it is. For shoo's takken a bound, An rashly Life's river shoo's crost; An th' wind seems to whisper wi' sorrowful sound, "Lost,--lost,--another one lost!"

O, lads, an O, la.s.ses! tak warnin i' time, Shun theas traps set bi Satan, whose bait May seem temptin; beware! they're but first steps to crime, Act to-day,--lest to-morrow's too late.

Heather Bells.

Ye little flowrets, wild an free, Yo're welcome, aye as onny!

Ther's but few seets 'at meet mi ee 'At ivver seem as bonny.

Th' furst gift 'at Lizzie gave to me, Wor a bunch o' bloomin heather, Shoo pluckt it off o'th' edge o'th' lea, Whear we'd been set together.

An when shoo put it i' mi hand, A silent tear wor wellin Within her ee;--it fell to th' graand, A doleful stooary tellin.

"It is a little gift," shoo sed, "An sooin will fade an wither, Yet, still, befooar its bloom is shed, We two mun pairt for ivver."

I tried to cheer her trubbled mind, Wi' tender words endearin; An raand her neck mi arms entwined, But grief her breast wor tearin.

"Why should mi parents sell for gold, Ther dowter's life-long pleasure?

Noa charm 'at riches can unfold, Can match a true love's treasure."

"But still, aw mun obey ther will,-- It isn't reight to thwart it; But mi heart's love clings to thee still, An nowt but deeath can part it, Forgie me if aw cause a pang,-- Aw'll love thee as a brother,-- Mi heart is thine, an oh! its wrang, Mi hand to give another."

"Think on me when theas fields grow bare, An cold winds kill the flowers, Ov bitterness they have a share; Their lot is like to awrs.

An if aw'm doomed to pine away, Wi' pleasure's cup untasted, Just drop a tear aboon the clay, 'At hides a young life wasted."

"Why should awr lot soa bitter be, Theas burds 'at sing together, When storms are commin off they flee, To lands ov sunny wreather?

An nah, when trubbles threaten thee What should prevent thee gooin, An linkin on thi fate wi' me, Withaat thi parents knowin?"

"Tha knows my love is soa sincere, Noa risk can mak it falter, Soa put aside all daat an fear, An goa wi' me to th' altar I' one month's time my wife tha'll be,-- Or less if tha'll but shorten it."

"Well then," says Lizzy, "aw'll agree, Tha'st have me in a fortnit."

Shoo laft an cried,--aw laft as weel, Aw feear'd shoo did'nt meean it; But Lizzie proved as true as steel,-- Her fowk sed nowt ageean it.

An who that wealthy chap could be, Aw nivver shall detarmin, For if aw ax shoo glints wi' glee.

An says, "Thee mind thi farmin."

An soa aw till mi bit o' graand, An oft when aght together, I'th' cooil o'th' day we saunter raand An pluck a sprig o' heather.

Soa sweethearts nooat theas simple facts, An trust i' one another; A la.s.s i' love ne'er stops to ax, Her fayther or her mother.

A Lucky Dog.

Tha'rt a rough en;--aye tha art,--an aw'll bet Just as ready. Tha ne'er lived as a pet, Aw can tell.

Ther's noa mistress weshed thi skin, cooam'd thi heead; Net mich pettin; kicks an cuffins oft asteead, Like mysel.

Tha'rt noa beauty;--nivver wor;--nivver will; Ther's lots like thee amang men,--but then still, Sich is fate; An its fooilish for to be discontent At a thing we've noa paar to prevent.

That's true mate.

Why tha's foller'd one like me aw cant tell; If tha'rt seekin better luck,--its a sell, As tha'll find; Nay, tha needn't twitch thi tail aght o' seet, Aw'll nooan hurt thi, tho' aw own tha'rt a freet.

Nivver mind.

Here's mi supper, an aw'll spare thee a part,-- Gently, pincher! Tak thi time. Here tha art; That's thy share.

Are ta chooakin? Sarve thi reight! Tak thi time!

Why it's wasted, owt 'at's gien thee 'at's prime.

Aw declare.

Are ta lukkin for some mooar? Tha's a cheek Tha mud nivver had a taste for a week, Tha'rt soa small; Aw've net tasted sin this nooin,--soa tha knows!

Thi maath watters,--awm a fooil,--but here gooas, Tak it all.

Tha luks hungry even yet,-aw believe Tha'd caar thear as long as awd owt to give, But it's done.

Are ta lost? Aw'll tell thi what tha'd best do Draand thisen! or let's toss up which o'th' two, Just for fun.

Come, heead or tail? If its heead then its thee, But net furst time,--we'll have two aght o' three,-- One to me.

Nah, it's tail,--one an one,---fairly tost,-- If its tail a second time, then aw've lost; Two to thee.

Soa it's sattled, an tha's won;--aw've to dee, But aw think it weant meean mich to thee If aw dull; For if awm poor, life is still sweet to all, Deeath's walkin raand, he's pratty sewer to call, Sooin enuff.

Aw'll toss noa moor, awm aght o' luck to neet, Aw'll goa to bed, an tha can sleep baght leet Aw expect.