Its long sin th' parson made us one, An yet it seems to me, As we've gooan thrustin, toilin on, Time's made noa change i' thee. Tha grummeld o' thi weddin day, - Tha's nivver stopt it yet;...
He'd a breet ruddy face an a laffin e'e, An his shoolders wer brooad as brooad need be; For each one he met he'd a sally o' wit, For a jovjal soul wor this same Tom Grit....
Darling child, to thee I owe, More than others here will know; Thou hast cheered my weary days, With thy coy and winsome ways. When my heart has been most sad, Smile of thine has made me glad;...
Wake up my harp! thy strings begin to rust! Has the soul fled that once within thee dwelt? Idle so long, shake off that coat of dust! Are there no souls to cheer, no hearts to melt?...
How should I know, That day when first we met, I Would be a day I never can forget? And yet 'tis so. That clasp of hands that made my heartstrings thrill,...
As awm sittin enjoyin mi pipe, An tooastin mi shins beside th' hob, Aw find ther's a harvest quite ripe, O' thowts stoored away i' mi nob. An aw see things as plainly to-neet,...
When shall we meet again? One more year passed; One more of grief and pain; - Maybe the last. Are the years sending us Farther apart? Or love still blending us Heart into heart?...
Look around and see the great men Who have risen from the poor Some are judges, some are statesmen, Ther's a chance for you I'm sure. Don't give in because you're weary, Pleasure oft is bought by pain;...
This world's full o' trubbles fowk say, but aw daat it, Yo'll find as mich pleasure as pain; Some grummel at times when they might do withaat it, An oft withaat reason complain....
Draw closer to my side to-night, Dear wife, give me thy hand, My heart is sad with memories Which thou canst understand, Its twenty years this very day, I know thou minds it well,...
Young Alick gate wed, as all gradely chaps do, An tuk Sally for better or war; A daycenter felly ne'er foller'd a ploo, - Th' best lad ov his mother's bi far. ...
A'a, dear! what a life has a mother! At leeast, if they're hamper'd like me, Thro' mornin' to neet ther's some bother, An' ther will be, aw guess, wol aw dee.
They say 'at its a waste o' brass - a nasty habit too, - A thing 'at noa reight-minded chap wod ivver think to do; Maybe they're reight; They say it puts one's brains to sleep, an maks a felly daft, -...