An' aw think what a glorious Christmas day
'twod ha been
If aw'd gooan to that place where ther's noa moor cares,
nor partin, nor sorrow;
An aw knaw they're thear,
or that dream aw should niver ha seen,
But aw'll try to be patient,
an' maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow.
Billy Bumble's Bargain.
Young Billy Bumble bowt a pig,
Soa aw've heeard th' neighbors say;
An' mony a mile he had to trig
One sweltin' summer day;
But Billy didn't care a fig,
He said he'd mak it pay;
He _knew_ it wor a bargain,
An' he cared net who said nay.
He browt it hooam to Ploo Croft loin,
But what wor his surprise
To find all th' neighbors standing aat,
We oppen maaths an' eyes;
"By gow!" sed Billy, to hissen,
"This pig _must_ be a prize!"
An' th' wimmen cried, "Gooid gracious fowk!
But isn't it a size?"
Then th' chaps sed, "Billy, where's ta been?
Whativer has ta browt?
That surely isn't crayture, lad,
Aw heeard 'em say tha'd bowt?
It luks moor like a donkey,
Does ta think 'at it con rawt?"
But Billy crack'd his carter's whip.
An' answered' em wi' nowt.
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