Yorkshire Tales Volume I Part 3

Or what best pleased thersen.

A gleam o' joy coom o'er his face When he heeard ther patterin feet, For he loved to laik wi' th' little bairns An' he did the thing 'at's reet.

He niver turned poor fowk away Uncared for throo his door; He ne'er forgate ther wor a day When he hissen wor poor; An' mony a face has turned to Heaven, All glistenin wi' weet, An' prayed for blessins on owd Ben, For he did th' thing 'at's reet.

He knew his lease wor ommost spent, He'd sooin be called away; Yet he wor happy an' content, An' waited th' comin day; But one dark neet he shut his e'en, An' slept soa calm an' sweet, when mornin coom, th' world held one less, 'At did the thing 'at's reet.

The New Year's Resolve

Says d.i.c.k, "ther's a' notion sprung up i' mi yed, For th' furst time i' th' whole coorse o' mi life, An' aw've takken a fancy aw'st like to be wed, If aw knew who to get for a wife.

Aw dooant want a woman wi' beauty, nor bra.s.s, For aw've nawther to booast on misel; What aw want is a warm-hearted, hard-workin' la.s.s, An' ther's lots to be fun, aw've heeard tell.

To be single is all weel enuf nah an' then, But it's awk'ard when th' weshin' day comes; For aw nivver think sooapsuds agree weel wi' men; They turn all mi ten fingers to thumbs.

An' awm sure it's a fact, long afoor aw get done, Aw'm slopt throo mi waist to mi fit; An' th' floor's in' a pond, as if th' peggy-tub run, An' mi back warks as if it 'ud split.

Aw fancied aw'st manage at breead-bakin' best; Soa one day aw bethowt me to try, But aw gate soa fl.u.s.tered, aw ne'er thowt o'th' yeast, Soa aw mud as weel offered to fly.

Aw did mak a dumplin', but a'a! dear a me!

Abaght that lot aw hardly dar think; Aw ne'er fan th' mistak' till aw missed th' sooap, yo see, An' saw th' suet i'th' sooap-box o'th' sink.

But a new-year's just startin', an' soa aw declare Aw'll be wed if a wife's to be had; For mi clooas is soa ragg'd woll aw'm ommost hauf bare, An' thease mullucks, they're drivin' me mad.

Soa, if yo should know, or should chonce to hear tell, Ov a la.s.s 'at to wed is inclined, Talegraft me at once, an' aw'll see her misel Afoor shoo can alter her mind."

The Old Bachelor's Story

It was an humble cottage, Snug in a rustic lane, Geraniums and fuschias peep'd From every window-pane;

The dark-leaved ivy dressed its walls, Houseleek adorned the thatch; The door was standing open wide, They had no need of latch.

And close besides the corner There stood an old stone well, Which caught a mimic waterfall, That warbled as it fell.

The cat, crouched on the well-worn steps, Was blinking in the sun; The birds sang out a welcome To the morning just begun.

An air of peace and happiness Pervaded all the scene; The tall trees formed a back ground Of rich and varied green;

And all was steeped in quietness, Save nature's music wild, When all at once, methought I heard The sobbing of a child.--

I listened, and the sound again Smote clearly on my ear: "Can there,"--I wondering asked myself-- "Can there be sorrow here?"--

I looked within, and on the floor Was sat a little boy, Striving to soothe his sister's grief By giving her a toy.

"Why weeps your sister thus?" I asked; "What is her cause of grief?

Come tell me, little man," I said, "Come tell me, and be brief."

Clasping his sister closer still, He kissed her tear-stained face, And thus, in homely Yorkshire phrase, He told their mournful case.

"Mi mammy, sir, shoos liggin thear, I' th' shut-up bed i' th' nook; An' tho aw've tried to wakken her, Shoo'll nawther spaik nor look.

Mi sissy wants her poridge, An' its time shoo had em too, But th' foir's gooan aght an' th' mail's all done-- Aw dooant know what to do.

An' O, my mammy's varry cold-- Just come an' touch her arm: Aw've done mi best to hap her up, But connot mak her warm.

Mi daddy he once fell asleep, An' niver wakken'd moor: Aw saw 'em put him in a box, An' tak him aght o' th' door.

He niver comes to see us nah, As once he used to do, An' let'mi ride upon his back-- Me, an' mi sissy too.

An' if they know mi mammy sleeps, Soa cold, an' white, an' still, Aw'm feeard they'll come an' fotch her, sir; O, sir, aw'm feard they will!

Aw happen could get on misen, For aw con work a bit, But little sissy, sir, yo see, Shoo's' varra young as yet.

Oh! dunnot let fowk tak mi mam!

Help me to rouse her up!

An' if shoo wants her physic, See,--it's in this little cup.

Aw know her heead war bad last neet, When putting us to bed; Shoo said, 'G.o.d bless yo, little things!'

An' that wor all shoo said.

Aw saw a tear wor in her e'e-- In fact, it's seldom dry: Sin daddy went shoo allus cries, But niver tells us why.

Aw think it's coss he isn't here, 'At maks her e'en soa dim; Shoo says, he'll niver come to us, But we may goa to him.

But if shoo's gooan an' left us here, What mun we do or say?-- We cannot follow her unless, Somebody 'll show us th' way."

My heart was full to bursting, When I heard the woeful tale; I gazed a moment on the face Which death had left so pale;

Then clasping to my heaving breast The little orphan pair, I sank upon my bended knees, And offered up a prayer,

That G.o.d would give me power to aid Those children in distress, That I might as a father be Unto the fatherless.

Then coaxingly I led them forth; And as the road was long, I bore them in my arms by turns-- Their tears had made me strong.

I took them to my humble home, Where now they may be seen, The lad,--a n.o.ble-minded youth,-- His "sissy,"--beauty's queen.

And now if you should chance to see, Far from the bustling throng, An old man, whom a youth and maid Lead tenderly along;--

And if you, wondering, long to know The history of the three,-- They are the little orphan pair-- The poor old man is me:

And on the little gra.s.sy mound 'Neath which their parents sleep, They bend the knee, and pray for me; I pray for them and weep.

Aght o' Wark