Aw long'd to claim her for, &c,
Aw saunter'd raand her cot at morn,
An' oft i'th' dark o'th' neet;
Aw've knelt mi daan i'th loin to find
Prints ov her tiny feet:
An' under th' window, like a thief,
Aw've crept to hear her spaik,
An' then aw've hurried home agean
For fear mi heart ud braik.
Aw long'd to claim her for, &c,
Another bolder nor misen,
Has robb'd me o' mi dear,
An' nah aw ne'er may share her joy
An' ne'er may dry her tear;
But though aw'm heartsick, lone, an' sad,
An' though hope's star is set,
To know she's lov'd as aw'd ha' lov'd
Wod mak me happy yet.
Aw long'd to claim her for, &c,
Th' Traitle Sop.
Once in a little country taan
A grocer kept a shop,
And sell'd amang his other things,
Prime traitle drink and pop,
Teah, coffee, currans, spenish juice,
Soft soap an' paader blue,
Presarves an' pickles, cinnamon,
Allspice an' pepper too;
An' hoasts o' other sooarts o' stuff
To sell to sich as came,
As figs, an' raisens, salt an' spice,
Too numerous to name.
One summer's day a waggon stood
Just opposite his door,
An' th' childer all gaped raand as if
They'd ne'er seen one afoor;
An' in it wor a traitle cask,
It wor a wopper too,
To get it aat they all wor fast
Which iver way to do;
But wol they stood an parley'd thear,
Th' horse gave a sudden chuck,
An' aat it flew, an' bursting threw
All th' traitle into th' muck.
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