Yorkshire Lyrics Part 6

Waivin Mewsic.

Ther's mewsic ith' shuttle, ith' loom, an ith frame, Ther's melody mingled ith' noise; For th' active ther's praises, for th' idle ther's blame, If they'd harken to th' saand of its voice.

An when flaggin a bit, how refreshin to feel As you pause an look raand on the throng, At the clank o' the tappet, the hum o' the wheel, Sing this plain unmistakable song:-- Nick a ting, nock a ting; Wages keep pocketing; Workin for little is better nor laikin; Twist an twine, reel an wind; Keep a contented mind; Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin.

To see workin fowk wi a smile o' ther face As they labour thear day after day; An hear th' women's voices float sweetly throo th' place, As they join i' some favorite lay; It saands amang th' din, as the violet seems At peeps aght th' green dockens among, Diffusing a charm ovver th' rest by its means, Thus it blends i' that steady old song; Nick a ting, nock a ting, Wages keep pocketing; Workin for little is better nor laikin; Twist an twine, reel an wind, Keep a contented mind, Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin.

An then see what lessons are laid out anent us, As pick after pick follows time after time, An warns us tho' silent, to let nowt prevent us From strivin by little endeavours to climb; Th' world's made o' trifles, its dust forms a mountain, Then nivver despair as yor trudgin along, If troubles will come an yor spirits dishearten, Yo'll find ther's relief i' that steady owd song; Nick a ting, nock a ting; Wages keep pocketin; Workin for little is better nor laikin; Twist an twine, reel an wind; Keep a contented mind; Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin.

Life's warp comes throo Heaven, th' weft's faand bi us sen, To finish a piece we're compell'd to ha booath; Th' warp's reight, but if th' weft should be faulty, how then?

Noa waiver ith' world can produce a gooid clooath.

Then let us endeavour by workin an strivin, To finish awr piece so's noa fault can be fun, An then i' return for awr pains an contrivin, Th' takker in 'll reward us and whisper "well done."

Clink a clank, clink a clank, Workin withaat a thank, May be awr fortun, if soa nivver mind it, Strivin to do awr best, We shall be reight at last, If we lack comfort now, then shall we find it.

Jimmy's Choice.

One limpin Jimmy wed a la.s.s; An this wor th' way it coom to pa.s.s-- He'd saved a little bit o' bra.s.s, An soa he thowt he'd ventur To tak unto hissen a wife, To ease his mind ov all its strife, An be his comfort all throo life-- An, pray, what should prevent her?

"Awve bra.s.s enuff," he sed, "for two, An noa wark at awm foorced to do, But all th' day long can bill an coo, Just like a little pigeon.

Aw nivver have a druffen rant; Aw nivver praich teetotal cant; Aw nivver booast at awm a saint, I' matters o' religion.

"Then with a gradely chap like me, A la.s.s can live mooast happily; An awl let all awr neighbors see We'll live withaat a wrangle; For if two fowk just have a mind To be to one another kind, They each may be as easy twined As th' hannel ov a mangle.

"For love's moor paar nor oaths an blows, An kind words, ivverybody knows, Saves monny a hundred thaasand rows; An soa we'll start wi kindness; For if a chap thinks he can win Love or respect wi oaths an din, He'll surely find he's been let in, An sarved reight for his blindness."

Soa Jimmy went to tell his tale To a young la.s.s called Sally Swale, An just for fear his heart should fail, He gate a drop o' whiskey.

Net mich, but just enuff, yo see, To put a spark into his e'e, An mak his tongue a trifle free, An mak him strong an frisky.

Young Sally, shoo wor varry shy, An when he'd done shoo breathed a sigh, An then began to sob an cry As if her heart wor brokken.

"Nay, Sally la.s.s,--pray what's amiss?"

He sed, an gave a lovin kiss, "If awd expected owt like this, Awm sewer awd ne'er ha spokken."

At last shoo dried her bonny een, An felt as praad as if a queen; An nivver king has ivver been One hawf as praad as Jimmy.

An soa they made all matters sweet, An one day quietly stroll'd up th' street, Till th' owd church door coom into seet-- Says Jim, "Come, la.s.s, goa wi me."

Then wed they wor an off they went To start ther life ov sweet content; An Sally ax'd him whear he meant Ther honey-mooin to spend at?

Says Jim, "We're best at hooam, aw think, We've lots o' stuff to ait an drink."

But Sally gave a knowin wink, An sed, "Nay, awl net stand that.

"Tha needn't think aw meean to be Shut up like in a nunnery; Awm fond o' life, an love a spree, As weel as onny other."

"Tha cannot goa," sed Jim, "that's flat."

"But goa aw shall, awl tell thee that!

What wod ta have a woman at?

Shame on thee for sich bother!"

Jim scrat his heead, "Nah la.s.s," sed he, "One on us mun a maister be, Or else we'st allus disagree, An nivver live contented."

Sed Sal, "Awd ne'er a maister yet, An if tha thowt a slave to get, Tha'll find thisen mista'en, awl bet; Awm sewer aw nivver meant it."

Jim tried his best to change her mind, But mud as weel ha saved his wind; An soa to prove he worn't unkind, He gave in just to pleeas her.

He's allus follow'd th' plan sin then, To help her just to pleeas hersen; An nah, he says, "They're fooilish men At wed a wife to teeas her."

Old Moorc.o.c.k.

Awm havin a smook bi misel, Net a soul here to spaik a word to, Awve noa gossip to hear nor to tell, An ther's nowt aw feel anxious to do.

Awve noa noashun o' writin a line, Tho' awve just dipt mi pen into th' ink, Towards warkin aw dooant mich incline, An awm ommost too lazy to think.

Awve noa riches to mak me feel vain, An yet awve as mich as aw need; Awve noa sickness to cause me a pain, An noa troubles to mak mi heart bleed.

Awr Dolly's crept off to her bed, An aw hear shoo's beginnin to snoor; (That upset me when furst we wor wed, But nah it disturbs me noa moor.)

Like me, shoo taks things as they come, Makkin th' best o' what falls to her lot, Shoo's content wi her own humble hooam, For her world's i' this snug little cot.

We know at we're booath growin old, But Time's traces we hardly can see; An tho' fifty years o'er us have roll'd, Shoo's still th' same young Dolly to me.

Her face may be wrinkled an grey, An her een may be losin ther shine, But her heart's just as leetsome to-day As it wor when aw furst made her mine.

Awve mi hobbies to keep me i' toit, Awve noa whistle nor bell to obey, Awve mi wark when aw like to goa to it, An mi time's all mi own, neet an day.

An tho' some pa.s.s me by wi a sneer, An some pity mi lowly estate, Aw think awve a deeal less to fear Nor them at's soa wealthy an great.

When th' sky stretches aght blue an breet, An th' heather's i' blossom all round, Makkin th' mornin's cooil breezes smell sweet, As they rustle along ovver th' graand.

When aw listen to th' lark as he sings Far aboon, ommost lost to mi view, Aw lang for a pair ov his wings, To fly wi him, an sing like him, too.

When aw sit under th' shade of a tree, Wi mi book, or mi pipe, or mi pen, Aw think them at's sooary for me Had far better pity thersen.

When wintry storms howl ovver th' moor, An snow covers all, far an wide, Aw carefully festen mi door, An creep cloise up to th' fire inside.

A basin o' porridge may be, To some a despisable dish, But it allus comes welcome to me, If awve n.o.bbut as mich as aw wish.

Mi cloas are old-fashioned, they say, An aw havn't a daat but it's true; Yet they answer ther purpose to-day Just as weel as if th' fashion wor new.

Let them at think joys n.o.bbut dwell Wheear riches are piled up i' stoor, Try to get a gooid share for thersel'

But leave me mi snug cot up o'th' moor.

Mi bacca's all done, soa aw'll creep Off to bed, just as quite as a maase, For if Dolly's disturbed ov her sleep, Ther'll be a fine racket i'th' haase.

Aw mun keep th' band i'th' nick if aw can, For if shoo gets her temper once crost, All comforts an joys aw may plan Is just soa mich labour at's lost.