John Hartley

“ Her een are black an breet;
They shine under her raven locks,
Like stars i'th' dark o'th' neet.
Her little cheeks are like a peach,
'At th' sun has woo'd an missed;
Her lips like cherries, red an sweet,
Seem moulded to be kissed.
Her breast is like a drift o' snow,
Her little waist's soa thin,
To clasp it wi' a careless arm
Wod ommost be a sin.
Her little hands an tiny feet,
Wod mak yo think shoo'd been
Browt up wi' little fairy fowk
To be a fairy queen.
An when shoo laffs, it saands as if
A little crystal spring,
Wor bubblin up throo silver rocks,
Screened by an angel's wing. ”

“ Yo may think, if a fooil,
Sich a thing nivver mattered,
But a lass, as a rule,
Doesn't want to be spattered.
When th' coortin neet comes, tho' yor appetite's ragin,
Dooant fill up wi oonions, wi mar'gum an sage in,
Remember, the darlin, where centred yor bliss is,
Likes to fancy, yor livin on love an her kisses.
An yor linen, if plain,
Have all spotless an fresh:
Then shoo connot complain,
When shoo has it to wesh.
When Love's flame's been lit, an burst into a glow,
Th' best thing yo can do,— (that's as far as aw know;) ”

“ Wol th' fiddles an flute wor ivvery one mute,
An th' tamborines tuk a short rest.
Then Rueben drew near, an he sed in her ear,
As he lifted her onto her feet;
"Sometimes its as wise when we start to advise,
To be mindful we're net indiscreet.
If yo'd been intended to walk backardsway,
To save yo from gettin that bump,
Dame Natur, in kindness, aw'll ventur to say,
Wod ha planted a e'e i' yor bustle."
That's All.
Mi hair is besprinkled wi' gray,
An mi face has grown wrinkled an wan;—
They say ivvery dog has his day,
An noa daat its th' same way wi a man. ”

“ 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 lasses, (God 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 Hell.
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? ”

“ We know at tha brings us glad tidins ov Spring,
An for that art entitled to thanks;
But tha maks a poor fist when tha offers to sing,
An tha plays some detestable pranks.
Too lazy to build a snug hooam for thisel,
Tha lives but a poor vagrant life;
An thi mate is noa better aw'm sooary to tell,
Shoo's unfit to be onny burd's wife.
Shoo drops her egg into another burd's nest,
An shirks what's her duty to do ”

“ Just sattle daan an end mi days
Cronkt up bith' hob at hooam.
An 'fore owts long, as like as net,
Wol crooidled up i'th' nook,
Ther'll be some youngster browt, aw'll bet,
To watch his grondad smook."
"Do stop! aw wonder ha tha dar,
Behave thi soa unkind!
Does't think 'at th' lads i' Batley Carr
Are all booath dumb an blind?
Shoo's wed a steady, honest chap,
An shoo's booath gooid an fair,
Ther's net another fit to swap,—
They mak a gradely pair."
"'Man worn't made to live alooan,'
Tha tell'd me that thisen:—
Tha needn't shak thi heead an grooan;—
Tha's happen changed sin then. ”

“ They've trubbles an trials to face;
I'th' futer they luk an see nowt
'At can hamper ther coorse i' life's race.
Th' sun's shinin soa breetly, they think
Sorrow's claads have noa shadow for them,
They walk on uncertainty's brink,
An they see in each teardrop a gem.
Happy dreams 'at they had long ago,
Too sweet to believe—-could be true,
Are realized nah, for they know
Th' world's pleasures wor made for them two. ”

“ The sun would rise ere long, the fierce, cruel sun, the last that he was ever likely to see; but the young Knight of St. John had a duty to perform before he should perish of thirst. He must hollow out a grave after death for her whom in life he had been bound to protect. After a brief prayer, the lad—with no implement but his hands—set to his toilsome but hallowed task. Though his tongue was cleaving to the roof of his mouth with thirst, for the mashale was utterly dry, Robin scraped and scraped, with patient toil, for it was a labour of love. ”

“ 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. ”

“ Just for love ov little childer.
In a common, lowly stable
He wor laid, an th' stars wor twinklin,
As if angel's 'een wor peepin
On His face 'at th' dew wor sprinklin.
An one star, like a big lantern,
Shepherds who ther flocks wor keepin,
Saw, an foller'd till it rested
Just aboon whear He wor sleepin.
Then strange music an sweet voices
Seem'd to sing reight aght o' Heaven,
"Unto us a child is born!
Unto us a son is given!"
Then coom wise men thro strange nations,—
Young men an men old an hoary,—
An they all knelt daan befoor Him,
An araand Him shone a glory. ”

“ Here, Harriet Ann, lass, taste o' this for awm Sure tha luks as if tha'd do wi' summat."
"Aw dooant know what yo meean, mother," said Alick, "for awm sewer my cooartin days is ovver."
"If aw thowt they wor aw should be th' happiest woman under th' sun, but tha must ha dropt it varry suddenly."
"Well, it's true, an awl promise yo 'at awl nivver start agean till ther's a death ith family."
"What wor aw tellin' thee, Jenny, before he come in? Isn't he a gooid lad thinks ta? He'll nivver get wed wol his old mother's alive, he's too mich sense." ”

“ When panics come an th' brass gets done,
An they've to try to borrow.
When th' chap at th' strap shop's lukkin glum,
An hardly seems to know yo;
An gooas on sarvin other fowk
As if he nivver saw yo.
An when yo're fain to pile up th' foir,
Wi' bits o' cowks an cinders;—
When poverty says, "here' aw've come,"
Love hooks it aght o'th' winders.
Friends yo once had are far too thrang
To ax yo to yer drinkin;
They happen dunnot meean owt wrang,—
But one cannot help for thinkin.
An when yo're lukkin seedy like,
Wi' patched an tattered clooas ”

“ An fooamin hooam brewed,—why,—aw think we'd enuff in,
To sail a big ship if we'd been soa inclined.
An then we'd that puddin—That thumpin big puddin—
That rich Christmas puddin, mi mother had made.
Sam sat next to Mary an Jim tuk awr Hannah,
An Kitty ov coorse had to sit next to me,—
An th' stuff wor sooin meltin away in a manner,
'At mi mother declared 't wor a pleasur to see.
They wor nowt could be mended, we sed when it ended,
An all seem'd as happy as happy could be;
An aw've nivver repented, for Kitty consented,
An shoo's still breet an bonny an a gooid wife to me. ”

“ 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." ”

“ But aw'll gladden mi e'en wi' its face,
To mak sure at its safe in its nick;—
But aw'm blest if ther's owt left i' th' place!
Why, its hook'd it as sure as aw'm wick.
Whear its gooan to's a puzzle to me,
An' who's taen it aw connot mak aat,
For it connot be th' wife, coss you see
It's a paand 'at shoo knew nowt abaat.
But thear shoo is, peepin' off th' side,
An' aw see 'at shoo's all on a grin;
To chait her aw've monny a time tried,
But I think it's nah time to give in,
A chap may be deep as a well,
But a woman's his maister when done ”

“ She fears no denial, and she meets with none; as soon as she has stated her case, the good woman replies, "Sit wi' 'em lass! aw'm sure aw will! an' thee," she said, turning to her husband, "put on thi hat an' coit an' goa wi' her."
"O, they're nobbut laikin at snowball, or else slurrin a bit," he said;—at the same time he put on his hat and coat, and showed as much alacrity to join in the search as the mother herself.
Owd Becca thrust into her capacious pocket a tea cake and two eggs, and taking the teapot into which she put a good supply of tea, she prepared for starting off ”

“ In a bit he wor forced to stop, an' he sed he thowt it wor time for him to goa; but shoo put her hand on his heead an' luk'd daan at him soa sorrowful like, as shoo lifted daan a black bottle aght o'th' cubbord, wol he couldn't find in his heart to leave her, soa sittin daan they had a drop o' gin an' watter together, for shoo wanted some to draand her sorrow, an he wanted summat to settle his stummack. Then he began lukkin raand, an' he wor capt to find what a nice comfortable haase shoo had, an' all th' furniture as gooid as new ”

“ For A'a! shoo wor a twazzy haand,
An tongue enuff for two.
An if he went aght neet or day,
His wife shoo went as weel;
He gat noa chonce to goa astray;—
Shoo kept him true as steel.
His face grew white, his heead grew bald,
His clooas hung on his rig,
He grew like one 'at's getten stall'd,
Ov this world's whirligig.
One day, he muttered to hissen,
"If aw've pickt th' lesser evil,
Th' poor chap 'at tackles Sarah Ann,
Will wish he'd wed the D—-l."
Take Heart!
Roughest roads, we often find,
Lead us on to th' nicest places ”

“ But nobbut gate abuse.
A curse wor tremblin on his tongue,
But with a mad despair,
He curbed it wi' an effort strong,
An changed it for a prayer.
"Oh, God!" he cried, "spare,—spare aw pray!
Have mercy an forgive;
Befooar too lat, show me some way
My wife an bairns can live!"
"Aw read i'th' papers ivvery day,
Ov hundreds,—thaasands spent
For shot an shell, an things to swell
This nation's armament.
Into fowk's hearts, oh, God! instil
A love ov peace, an then,
Maybe we'st have some better times,
An men can help thersen.
Aw nobbut want a chonce to live,
One cannot wish for less ”

“ Noa love for her offspring e'er trubbles the breast,
Ov this selfish, hard-hearted Cuckoo.
Some other poor burd mun attend to her young,
An work hard to find 'em wi' grubs,
An all her reward, is to find befooar long
At her foster child treeats her wi' snubs.
Tha lives throo all th' sunshine, but th' furst chilly wind
'At ruffles thi feathers a bit,
Yo gather together an all i' one mind
Turn yor tails,—fly away, an forget.
Ther's some men just like yo, soa selfish an base,
They dooant care what comes or what gooas ”

“ For he acted soa far as he knew,
For th' best to all th' fowk he coom near.
An aw ne'er see this blackened old clay,
But aw find mi een dimmed wi a tear;
An aw ne'er put th' old relic away
But aw wish mi old fayther wor here.
Let th' Lasses Alooan!
What a lot ov advice ther is wasted;—
What praichin is all thrown away;—
Young fowk lang for pleasures untasted,
An its little they'll heed what yo say.
Old fowk may have wisdom i' plenty,
But they're apt to forget just one thing;
What suits sixty will hardly fit twenty,
An youth ivver will have its fling. ”

“ Ther's nowt left to pop nor to sell,
An aw cannot get trust if aw try.
My wife has to turn aght to wark,
An th' little uns all do a share;
An they're tewin throo dayleet to dark,
To keep me sittin here i' mi chair.
It doesn't luk long sin that day
When Bessy wor stood bi mi side;
An shoo promised to love an obey,
An me to protect an provide.
Shoo wor th' bonniest lass i' all th' taan,
An fowk sed as they saw us that day,
When we coom aght o' th' church, arm i' arm,
Shoo wor throwin' hersen reight away.
But shoo smiled i' mi face as we went,
An her arm clung moor tightly to mine ”

“ Nor envied me mi little cot;
An in this world, as we goa throo,
It is'nt mich gooid we can do,
An do awr best.
Then let us do as little wrong
To onny as we pass along,
An never seek a joy to gain
'At's purchased wi' another's pain,
It isn't reet.
Aw shall goa hooam wi' leeter heart,
To mend awr Johnny's little cart:
(He allus finds me wark enuff
To piecen up his brocken stuff,
For ivvery neet.)
An Sally—a'a! if yo could see her!
When aw sit daan to get mi teah,
Shoo puts her dolly o' mi knee,
An maks me sing it "Hush a bee,"
I'th' rocking chear ”

“ Ov all things!—why,—it connot be
Her thowts should turn to men!"
"Whisht!" sed his wife, "we wed as young,
An shoo's moor sense bi far,—
An then tha knows shoo's th' grandest lass
'At lives at Batley Carr."
He gave a grooan, for on his lass
He'd set a deal o' stooar.
He lit his pipe an filled his glass,
Then fixed his e'en o'th' flooar.
"By gum!" he sed, "but this is rough,
Aw ne'er knew owt as bad,
If shoo's a wife, its plain enuff
Aw connot be a lad."
"Aw must be old,—aw say,—old lass,—
Does't think aw'm growin grey?
Gooid gracious! but ha time does pass! ”

“ Noa better wife had onny man,—
Noa praader chap could be.
He tuk noa stock i' fleetin time,
He nivver caanted th' years;
For he wor hale, just in his prime,
An nowt to cause him fears.
He nivver dreamt ov growin old,
Sich thowts ne'er made him freat,
He sed,—"Why aw'm as gooid as gold,
Aw'm but a youngster yet!"
His childer thrave like willow wands,
An made fine maids an men,
But th' thowt ne'er entered in his nut,
'At he grew old hissen.
His e'en wor oppened one fine day,
His dreams o' youth all fled;
An th' reason on it wor, they say,—
His dowter,—shoo gate wed. ”