Hold up yer heeads, tho' at poor workin men Simple rich ens may laff an may scorn; Maybe they ne'er haddled ther riches thersen, Somdy else lived befooar they wor born. As noble a heart may be fun in a man,...
What matters if some fowk deride, An point wi' a finger o' scorn? Th' time wor tha wor lukt on wi' pride, Befooar mooast o'th' scoffers wor born. But aw'll ne'er turn mi back on a friend,...
When dull November's misty shroud, All Nature's charms depress, Flinging a damp, dark, deadening cloud, O'er each heart's joyousness. Our fancies quit their lighter vein, And out from Memory's shrine,...
Aw think aw could tell what day it wor th o' aw didn't know if aw could see a lot o' factry fowk gooin to ther wark. Mondy's easy to tell, becoss th' lasses have all clean approns on, an' ther hair hasn't lost its Sundy twists,...
Ther's a deal o' things scattered raand, at if fowk ud tak th' trouble to pick up might do 'em a paar o' gooid, an' my advice is, if yo meet wi' owt i' yor way 'at's likely to mak life better or happier, sam it up, but first ma...
A gradely chap wor uncle Ben As ivver lived i'th' fowd: He made a fortun for hissen, An lived on't when he'r owd. His yed wor like a snow drift, An his face wor red an breet,...