Then o'th' Sundy ther's cooking 'em th' dinner,
It's ther only warm meal in a wick;
Tho' ther's some say aw must be a sinner,
For it's paving mi way to Old Nick.
But a chap mun be like to ha' summat,
An' aw can't think it's varry far wrang,
Just to cook him an' th' childer a dinner,
Tho' it may mak me rayther too thrang.
But if yor a wife an' a mother,
Yo've yor wark an' yor duties to mind;
Yo mun leearn to tak nowt as a bother,
An' to yor own comforts be blind.
But still, just to seer all ther places,
When they're gethred raand th' harston at neet,
Fill'd wi six roosy-red, smilin' faces;
It's nooan a despisable seet.
An, aw connot help thinkin' an' sayin',
(Tho' yo may wonder what aw can mean),
'At if single, aw sooin should be playin'
Coortin tricks, an' be weddin' agean.
What is It.
What is it maks a crusty wife
Forget to scold, an' leeave off strife?
What is it smoothes the rooad throo life?
It's sooap.
What is it maks a gaumless muff
Grow rich, an' roll i' lots o' stuff,
Woll better men can't get enough?
It's sooap.
What is it, if it worn't theear,
Wod mak some fowk feel varry queer,
An' put 'em: i' ther proper sphere?
It's sooap.
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