John Hartley

“ Shoo wor th' hooap an pride o' ther life,
Till a Squire put strange thowts in her heead;
Then shoo fled an they ne'er saw her mooar,
Soa they mourn her as if shoo wor deead.
Ther's One up aboon sees it all;
He values noa titles nor brass,
He cares noa mooar for a rich Squire,
Nor He does for a poor country lass,
His messengers now hover near,
Till that mother an child yield ther breath,
An th' Squire has noa longer a fear,
For his secret is lockt up in death. ”

“ As if he wor ommost a god.
He's hansum, he's rich, an he's clivver,
An fowk's praad if he gives 'em a nod.
He keeps carriages, horses an dogs,
For spooartin, or fancy, or labor,
He's a pew set apart in a church,
An he's reckoned a varry gooid naybor.
Ther's a woman bedrabbled an weet,
Crouched daan in a doorhoil to rest;
Her een strangely breet,—her face like a sheet,
An her long hair hings ovver her breast.
Want's shrivell'd her body to nowt,
An vice has set th' stamp on her face;
An her heart's grown soa callous an hard,
'At it connot be touched wi' disgrace. ”

“ But aw've noa reason to regret,
Her appetite shoo keeps up yet.
Eight years have passed sin shoo wor mine,
An nah awr family numbers nine.
A chap when wedded life begins,
Seldom expects a brace o' twins;
But Mary Jane's browt that for me,—
Shoo's nursin th' last pair on her knee;
An as aw th' bowls o' porrige pass,
Aw say, "God bless thi belly lass!"
We have noa wealth i' gold or lands,
But cheerful hearts, an willin hands;
Altho soa monny maaths to fill,
We live i' hooaps an labor still.
Ther little limbs when stronger grown,
Will be a fortun we shall own. ”

“ It saands soa sweet, an yet soa low,
One feels it forms a part
Ov what yo love, an yo can hear
Its echoes in yor heart.
It isn't likely aw shall win,
An wed soa rich a prize;
But ther's noa tellin what strange things
Man may do, if he tries.
Love one Another.
Let's love one another, it's better bi far;
Mak peace wi yor Brother—it's better nor war!
Life's rooad's rough enuff,—let's mak it mooar smooth,
Let's sprinkle awr pathway wi kindness an love.
Ther's hearts at are heavy, and een at are dim,
Ther's deep cups o' sorrow at's full up to th' brim ”

“ God bless mi life! childer, its useless to freeat!
This world's reight enuff, but it wod be a sad en,
If we all started rooarin for what we cant get.
Who knows but what th' things we mooast wish for an covet,
Are th' varry warst things we could ivver possess;
Let's shak hands wi' awr luck, an try soa to love it,
'At noa joy ov awr life shall be made onny less.
Mak th' best on't,—mak th' best on't,—ne'er heed if yor naybor
Can live withaat workin wol yo have to slave;
Ther's nowt sweetens life like some honest hard labor,
An it's th' battles yo feight 'at proves yo are brave. ”

“ Wol th' wife tries to draand th' childer's din,
Bi yellin an raisin the devil.
A'a dear, what it is to be big!
But a chap 'at's a fooil needn't show it,
For th' rest o'th' world cares net a fig,
An a thaasand to one doesn't know it.
Consait, aw have often heeard say,
Is war for a chap nor consumption,
An aw'll back a plain chap onny day,
To succeed, if he's nobbut some gumpshun.
My advice to young fowk is to try
To grow honestly better an wiser;
An yo'll find yor reward by-an-by,—
True merit's its own advertiser. ”

“ To care for an protect,
It's reight 'at yo should luk to me,
An wrang should aw neglect.
Aw'm growin older ivvery day,
My race is ommost run,
Time's growin varry precious, lass,
An lots remains undone.
If aw wor called away, maybe,
Tha'd find some other man,
But tha cannot find a father,
For them lads,—do th' best tha can.
Another husband might'nt prove
As kind as aw have been;
An wedded life's a weary thing,
When love's shut aght o'th' scene.
Aw know aw've faults, aw'll own a lot,—
But then, tha must agree,
Aw've allus kept a tender spot
Within mi heart for thee. ”

“ But riches can ne'er mak a man.
Then give me that honest hard worker,
'At labors throo mornin to neet,
Tho' his rest may be little an seldom,
Yet th' little he gets he finds sweet.
He may rank wi' his wealthier brother,
An rank heigher, aw fancy, nor some;
For a hand 'at's weel hoofed wi' hard labor
Is a passport to th' world 'at's to come.
For we know it's a sin to be idle,
As man's days i' this world are but few;
Then let's all wi' awr lot be contented,
An continue to toil an to tew.
For ther's one thing we all may be sure on,
If we each do awr best wol we're here ”

“ That dear spot whear aw wor born.
Sixty an Sixteen.
We're older nor we used to be,
But that's noa reason why
We owt to mope i' misery,
An whine an grooan an sigh.
We've had awr shares o' ups an daans,
I' this world's whirligig;
An for its favors or its fraans
We needn't care a fig.
Let them, at's enterin on life
Be worried wi' its cares;
We've tasted booath its joys an strife,
They're welcome nah to theirs.
To tak things easy owt to be
An old man's futer plan,
Till th' time comes when he has to dee,—
Then dee as weel's he can. ”

“ Aw goa to th' chapil, yet confess
Aw'm somewhat daatful, moor or less,
For th' chaps at cracks up gloory soa,
Ne'er seem in onny haste to goa.
To me, religion seems quite plain;—
Aw cause noa fellow-mortal pain,
Aw do a kind act when aw can,
An hooap to dee an honest man.
Aw hooap to live till old an gray,
An when th' time comes to goa away,
Aw feel convinced some place ther'll be,
Just fit for sich a chap as me.
Green fields, an trees, an brooks, an flaars,
Are treasures we can all call awrs,
An when hooam is earth's fairest spot
One should be thankful for his lot. ”

“ What is it gains fowk invitations,
Throo them at live i' lofty stations?
What is it wins mooast situations?
It's sooap.
What is it men say they detest,
Yet allus like that chap the best
'At gives em twice as mich as th' rest?
It's sooap.
What is it, when the devil sends
His agents raand to work his ends,
What is it gains him lots o' friends?
It's sooap.
What is it we should mooast despise,
An by its help refuse to rise,
Tho' poverty's befoor awr eyes?
It's sooap.
What is it, when life's wasting fast,
When all this world's desires are past,
Will prove noa use to us at last? ”

“ Nowt mi wearied spirit charms,
Like him nestlin i' mi arms,
An noa music is as sweet,
As his patt'rin, clatt'rin feet.
Willie's Weddin.
A'a, Willie, lad, aw'm fain to hear
Tha's won a wife at last;
Tha'll have a happier time next year,
Nor what tha's had i'th' past.
If owt can lend this life a charm,
Or mak existence sweet,
It is a lovin woman's arm
Curled raand yor neck at neet.
An if shoo's net an angel,
Dooant grummel an find fault,
For eearth-born angels, lad, tha'll find
Are seldom worth ther salt.
They're far too apt to flee away,
To spreead ther bonny wings ”

“ Whose falsehood has caused all mi misery,
Strike up thy strain,
An if his heart yet answers to thy trill
Fly back to me, an we will love him still.
But if he heeds thee not, then shall aw feel
All hope is o'er,
An he that aw believed an loved soa weel
Be loved noa more;
For that hard heart, bird music cannot move,
Is far too cold a dwellin-place for love.
Shoo's thi Sister. (Written on seeing a wealthy Townsman rudely push a poor little girl off the pavement.)
Gently, gently, shoo's thi sister,
Tho' her clooas are nowt but rags ”

“ Mun be toiled for long an hard;
An tho' th' struggle may be pinnin,
Perseverance wins reward.
Earnest thowt, an constant strivin,
Ever wi' one aim i'th' seet;
Tho' we may be late arrivin,
Yet at last we'st come in reet.
He who WILL succeed, he MUST,
When he's bid false hopes farewell,
If he firmly fix his trust
In his God, and in hissel.
They all do it.
They're all buildin nests for thersen,
One bi one they goa fleetin away;
A suitable mate comes,—an then,
I'th' old nest they noa longer can stay. ”

“ An what cheers yor heart, when yo far away wander,
As mich as the thowts ov a welcome at th' end?
Yo may goa an be lucky, an win lots o' riches;
Yo may gain fresh acquaintance as onward yo rooam;
But tho' wealth may be temptin, an honor bewitches,
Yet they're nowt when compared to a welcome back hooam.
Pray, who hasn't felt as they've sat sad an lonely,
They'd give all they possessed for the wings ov a dove,
To fly far away, just to catch a seet only
Ov th' friends o' ther childhood, the friends 'at they love. ”

“ Who's thowts an desires are pure as the snow,
Who nivver thinks virtue a reason for praise,
An who shudders when tell'd ov this world's wicked ways.
Shoo isn't a gossip, shoo keeps to her hooam,
Shoo's a welcome for friends if they happen to come;
Shoo's tidy an cleean, let yo call when yo may,
Shoo's nivver upset or put aght ov her way.
At morn when her husband sets off to his wark,
Shoo starts him off whistlin, as gay as a lark;
An at neet if he's weary he hurries straight back,
An if worried forgets all his cares in a crack. ”

“ For th' seet ov her face cheer'd mi heart when 'twor sad,
For shoo wor soa bonny,—soa bonny mi lad.
But shoo wor like th' rest,—false,—false in her heart;
Shoo made me to love her,—an Cupid's sharp dart
Wor nobbut her fun,—wi' decait it wor clad;—
But then, shoo wor bonny;—soa bonny mi lad.
Shoo sooin wed another,—noa better nor me,
An aw hooap shoo'll be happy, though my life is dree;
An aw'll try to submit, though shoo treated me bad,
But oh! mi poor heart is nigh brokken mi lad.
Ther may come a time when her passion has cooiled,
Shoo may think ov a chap shoo unfeelingly fooiled ”

“ At sixty we dooant see wi' th' een,
We saw wi at sixteen.
Young shoolders worn't meant to bear
Old heeads, an nivver will;
Youth had its fling when we wor thear,
An soa it will have still.
Aw wodn't live life o'er agean,
Unless 'at aw could start
Quite free throo knowledge o' this world,
Quite free in heead an heart.
That perfect trust 'at childer have,
Gives life its greatest charm;
Noa wisdom after years can give,
Will keep ther hearts as warm.
When nearin th' bottom o' life's hill,
If we, when lukkin back,
Can see some seeds ov gooid we've sown,
Are bloomin on awr track ”

“ Bless mi life! a few drops 'll sarve them! If we try
Awm weel sure we can easily spare 'em,
But as sooin as they're able, awl mak 'em all fly!
Nivver mind if aw dooant! harum scarum!"
A Quiet Tawk.
"Nah, lass, caar thi daan, an let's have a chat,—
It's long sin we'd th' haase to ussen;
Just give me thi nooations o' this thing an that,
What tha thinks abaat measures an men.
We've lived a long time i' this world an we've seen,
A share of its joys an its cares;
Tha wor nooan born baght wit, an tha'rt net varry green,
Soa let's hear what tha thinks of affairs." ”

“ For shoo wor th' grandest lass i'th' schooil
An th' best,—noa matter what;—
Aw should ha been a sackless fooil,
To miss a chonce like that.
Soa oft we met to stroll an tawk,
Noa matter, rain or shine;
An one neet as we tuk a walk,
Aw ax't her to be mine.
Shoo gave consent, an sooin we wed:—
Sin' then we've had full share
Ov rough an smooth, yet still we've led
A life ov little care.
An monny a time aw say to Jane,
If things luk dull an bad;—
Cheer up! tha knows we owe to th' rain
All th' joys o' life we've had.
Awr Lad.
Beautiful babby! Beautiful lad! ”

“ Come, aw'll tak thi to thi mother,
Shoo's more used to sich nor me,
Hands like mine worn't made to bother
Wi sich ginger-breead as thee.
Innocent an' helpless craytur,
All soa pure an' undefiled,
If ther's ought belangs to heaven,
Lives o'th' earth, it is a child.
An' its hard to think 'at someday,
If tha'rt spared to weather throo,
'At tha'll be a man, an' someway
Have to feight life's battles too.
Kings an' Queens, an' lords an' ladies,
Once wor nowt noa moor to see,
An' th' warst wretch at hung o'th' gallows,
Once wor born as pure as thee. ”

“ An his e'eseet an hearin gave way;
An his limbs at had once been soa strong,
Grew shakier day after day.
Yet his heart nivver seem'd to grow old,
Tho life's harvest had long been past ripe
For his ailments wor allus consoled,
When he'd getten a whiff ov his pipe,
Aw'll keep it as long as aw can,
For its all aw've been able to save,
To bind mi heart still to th' old man,
At's moulderin away in his grave.
He'd noa strikin virtues to booast,
Noa vices for th' world to condemn;
To be upright an honest an just,
In his lifetime he ne'er forgate them ”

“ Owd Butterworth sed he'd noa cause to complain:
Shoo wor hearty an strong,
An could troll aght a song,
An trubbles shoo held i' disdain,
He'd not sell her squint
For all th' brass i'th' mint,
Nor pairt wi her blossomin nooas;
He's no rival to fear,
Soa he keeps i' gooid cheer,
An cares nowt ha th' world comes or it gooas.
Cats are all gray at neet,
Soa when puttin aght th' leet,
As he duckt under th' warm caanterpain,
He sed, "Beauty breeds strife
Oft between man an wife,
But it ne'er trubbles me nor awr Jane." ”

“ Th' fields in ther greenest are drest, Jenny,
An th' songsters mak music ith' bowers.
Daisies an buttercups smile, Jenny,
Laughingly th' brook flows along;—
An awm havin a smook set oth' stile, Jenny,
But this bacca's uncommonly strong.
Aw wonder if thy heart like mine, Jenny,
Finds its love-burden hard to be borne;
Do thi een wi' breet tears ov joy shine, Jenny,
As they glistened an shone yestermorn?
Ther's noa treasure wi' thee can compare, Jenny,
Aw'd net change thi for wealth or estate;—
But aw'll goa nah some braikfast to share, Jenny,
For aw can't live baght summat to ait. ”

“ Whearivver he may be,
Tho fond o' rammellin' abaat,
He's allus true to thee.
Tha'll learn mooar sense, lass, in a while,
For wisdom comes wi' time,
An' if tha lives tha'll leearn to smile
At troubles sich as thine;
A faithful chap is better far,
Altho' he likes to rooam,
Nor one 'at does what isn't reight,
An' sits o'th' hearth at hooam.
Tha needn't think 'at wedded life
Noa disappointment brings;
Tha munnot think to keep a chap
Teed to thi appron strings.
Soa dry thi een, they're varry wet,
An' let thi heart be glad,
For tho' tha's wed a rooamer, yet,
Tha's wed a honest lad. ”

“ For a chap at ne'er langs nivver tews;—
If yo snuff aght ambition an pride,
Yo sink a chap's heart in his shoes,
Wish for summat 'at's honest an reight,
An detarmine yo'll win it or dee!
Yo'll find obstacles slink aght o'th gate,
An th' black claads o' daat quickly flee.
Young men should seek labor an gains,
Old men wish for rest an repose;—
Young lasses want brave, lovin swains,
An hanker for th' finest o' clooas.
Old wimmin,—a cosy foirside,
An a drop o' gooid rum i' ther teah;
Little childer, a horse they can ride,
Or a dolly to nurse o' ther knee. ”

“ But dooan't let it harden yor heart:
Yo 'at's blessed wi' abundance should think
An try to do gooid wi' a part!
An then, as yo're totterin' daan,
An th' last grains o' sand are i'th glass,
Yo may find 'at yo've purchased a craan
Wi' makkin gooid use o' yor brass.
The New Year's Resolve.
Says Dick, "ther's a nooation 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 brass,
For aw've nawther to booast on misel ”

“ May they cloiser cling, th' longer they grow,
Till two lives blend i' one sacred love.
Bless th' bride! wi' her bonny breet e'en!
Bless th' husband, who does weel his part;
Aye! an bless those old fowk where they've been,
The joy an the pride ov ther heart.
May health an prosperity sit
At ther table soa long as they live!
An accept th' gooid wishes aw've writ,
For they're all 'at aw'm able to give.
To Let.
Aw live in a snug little cot,
An' tho' poor, yet aw keep aght o' debt,
Cloise by, in a big garden plot,
Stands a mansion, 'at long wor "to let." ”