Heart Brocken.
He wor a poor hard workin lad,
An' shoo a workin lass:
An' hard they tew'd throo day to day,
For varry little brass.
An' oft they tawk'd o'th' weddin' day,
An' lang'd for th' happy time,
When poverty noa moor should part,
Two lovers i' ther prime.
But wark wor scarce, an' wages low
An' mait an' drink wor dear,
They did ther best to struggle on,
As year crept after year.
But they wor little better off,
Nor what they'd been befoor;
It tuk 'em all ther time to keep
Grim Want aatside 'oth' door.
Soa things went on, wol Hope at last,
Gave place to dark despair;
They felt they'd nowt but lovin hearts,
An' want an toil to share.
At length he screw'd his courage up
To leave his native shore;
An' goa where wealth wor worshipped less,
An' men wor valued moor.
He towld his tale;--poor lass!--a tear
Just glistened in her e'e;
Then soft shoo whispered, "please thisen,
But think sometimes o' me:
An' whether tha's gooid luck or ill,
Tha knows aw shall be glad
To see thee safe at hooam agean,
An' welcome back mi lad."
"Awl labor on, an' do mi best;
Tho' lonely aw must feel,
But awst be happy an content
If tha be dooin weel.
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