For I cared so much for my boy that the Lord has

look'd into my care,

And He means me I'm sure to be happy with Willy,

I know not where.

XVI.

And if he be lost-but to save my soul, that is all your desire:

Do you think that I care for my soul if my boy be

gone to the fire?

I have been with God in the dark-go, go, you may

leave me alone

You never have borne a child-you are just as hard

as a stone.

XVII.

Madam, I beg your pardon! I think that you mean

to be kind,

But I cannot hear what you say for my Willy's voice

in the wind

The snow and the sky so bright-he used but to call

in the dark,

And he calls to me now from the church and not

from the gibbet-for hark!

Nay-you can hear it yourself—it is coming-shaking

the walls

Willy-the moon's in a cloud-Good night. I am

going. He calls.

THE NORTHERN COBBLER.

I.

WAÄIT till our Sally cooms in, fur thou mun a' sights'

to tell.

Eh, but I be maäin glad to seeä tha sa 'arty an' well. 'Cast awaäy on a disolut land wi' a vartical soon 2!' Strange fur to goä fur to think what saäilors a' seëan an' a' doon;

'Summat to drink-sa' 'ot?' I 'a nowt but Adam's

wine :

What's the 'eät o' this little 'ill-side to the 'eät o' the line?

The vowels aï, pronounced separately though in the closest conjunction, best render the sound of the long i and y in this dialect. But since such words as craïin', daïin', whaï, aï (I), &c., look awkward except in a page of express phonetics, I have thought it better to leave the simple i and y, and to trust that my readers will give them the broader pronunciation.

2 The oo short, as in 'wood.'

II.

'What's i' tha bottle a-stanning theer?' I'll tell tha.

Gin.

But if thou wants thy grog, tha mun goä fur it down

to the inn.

Naay-fur I be maäin-glad, but thaw tha was iver sa

dry,

Thou gits naw gin fro' the bottle theer, an' I'll tell

Meä an' thy sister was married, when wur it? back

end o' June,

Ten year sin', and wa 'greed as well as a fiddle i' tune:

I could fettle and clump owd booöts and shoes wi' the best on 'em all,

As fer as fro' Thursby thurn hup to Harmsby and

Hutterby Hall.

We was busy as beeäs i' the bloom an' as 'appy as

'art could think,

An' then the babby wur burn, and then I taäkes to

the drink.

IV.

An' I weänt gaäinsaäy it, my lad, thaw I be hafe

shaämed on it now,

We could sing a good song at the Plow, we could

sing a good song at the Plow;

Thaw once of a frosty night I slither'd an' hurted my

huck,1

An' I coom'd neck-an-crop soomtimes slaäpe down i'

the squad an' the muck:

An' once I fowt wi' the Taäilor-not hafe ov a man, my lad

Fur he scrawm'd an' scratted my faäce like a cat, an'

it maäde 'er sa mad

› Hip.