THE FIRST QUARREL.

(IN THE ISLE OF WIGHT.)

I.

'WAIT a little,' you say, 'you are sure it 'll all come

right,'

But the boy was born i' trouble, an' looks so wan an'

so white :

Wait! an' once I ha' waited-I hadn't to wait for long. Now I wait, wait, wait for Harry.-No, no, you are doing me wrong!

Harry and I were married: the boy can hold up his

head,

The boy was born in wedlock, but after my man was

dead;

B

I ha' work'd for him fifteen years, an' I work an' I

wait to the end.

I am all alone in the world, an' you are my only friend.

II.

Doctor, if you can wait, I'll tell you the tale o' my

life.

When Harry an' I were children, he call'd me his own

little wife;

I was happy when I was with him, an' sorry when he

was away,

An' when we play'd together, I loved him better than

play;

He workt me the daisy chain-he made me the cows

lip ball,

He fought the boys that were rude an' I loved him

better than all.