A Hawporth.
Whear is thi' Daddy doy? Whear is thi' mam?
What are ta cryin for, poor little lamb?
Dry up thi peepies, pet, wipe thi wet face;
Tears o' thy little cheeks seem aat 'o place.
What do they call thi, lad? Tell me thi name;
Have they been ooinion thi? Why, its a shame.
Here, tak this hawpny, an' buy thi some spice,
Rocksticks or humbugs or summat 'at's nice.
Then run of hooam agean, fast as tha can;
Thear,--thart all reight agean; run like a man.
He wiped up his tears wi his little white brat,
An' he tried to say summat, aw couldn't tell what;
But his little face breeten'd wi' pleasure all throo:--
A'a!--its cappin, sometimes, what a hawpny can do.
Buttermilk &c.
May is the month for Buttermilk! A doctor once tell'd me it wor worth
a guinea a pint; he sed it licked cod liver oil, castor oil; or
paraffin oil. Castor oil, he said, war varry gooid for ther bowels,
cod liver oil for ther liver, an' paraffin oil for ther leets (whear
they'd noa gas), but buttermilk wor better nor all three put together,
an' he ad vised me to tak it. "Why," aw sed; "what's th' use o'. me
takkin it when aw dooant ail owt?" "Ther's noa tellin' ha sooin yo
may," he said, "an' an it's a varry simple remedy, yo'd better tak it
whether yo do or net.
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