"What happy taames them was, Bob, Thoo niver left me then To gan to t' yal-hoose neet be neet Amang all t' drunken men.

"I does my best for thoo, Bob, An' thoo sud dea t' seame for me: Just think what things thoo promised me Asaade t' awd willow tree!"

"I prithee say nea mair, la.s.s, I see I ain't dean reet; I'll think of all thoo's said to me, An' stop at yam to-neet."

"I'll try to lead a better life- I will, an' that thoo'll see!

Fra this taame fo'th I'll spend my neets At yam, wi' t' bairns an' thee!"

1. Home.

Ode to t' Mooin

J. H. Eccles (1824-1883)

I like to see thy quaint owd face Lewk softly daan on me, E'en though I ne'er could find thy nose Nor catch thy watchful ee.

Full monny times I've seen thee rise, When busy day were done, When daan behint t' owd maantain tops Had pa.s.sed t' breet evenin' sun.

I like to see thee when sweet spring Cooms back to hill an' vale; When odours rise through t' hawthorn bush, An' float on t' evenin' gale.

When lovers walk on t' primrose benks, An' whisper soft an' low; Dreamin' just same as me an' t' wife Did monny years ago.

I like to see thee when t' June rose Is wet wi' fallin' dew, When t' nightingale maks t' owd woods ring Wi' music fresh an' new

When fairies dance on t' top o' t' flaars An' roam through t' pleasant dells, Like monarchs i' their marble halls, I' t' lilies' virgin bells.

I like to see thee when t' ripe corn Is wavin' to an' fro; When t' squirril goes a-seekin' nuts An' jumps thro' bough to bough.

When t' purple heather covers t' hills, An' t' hunters, tired and worn, Back through the fairy-haunted glens Unto their homes return.

I like to see thee when all raand Is white wi' drivven snow, When t' streams are stopp'd by owd Jack Frost An' foaks slip as they go.

I like to see thee all t' year raand, When t' sky is fair an' breet, An' allus hail wi' fond delight The n.o.ble queen o' t' neet.

I used to think at I could reach Up to thy face wi' ease, If I had but a big long stick; For tha were but green cheese.

But naa I've got far different thowts, An' learnt to understand At tha art one o' t' wondrous works Formed by t' gert Maker's hand.

Aunt Nancy

J. H. Eccles

Aunt Nancy's one o' t' savin' sort, At niver lets t' chonce pa.s.s; Yet wouldn't do owt mean or low For t' sake o' gettin' t' bra.s.s.

Her home's as clean as need be seen, Whoiver may go in; An' as for Nancy, dear-a-me!

Shoo's like a new-made pin.

Shoo's full o' thrift an' full o' sense, An' full o' love beside; Shoo rubs an' scrubs thro' morn to neet An' maks t' owd haase her pride.

Her husband, when his wark is doon, Sits daan i' t' owd arm chair ; Forgets his troubles as he owt, An' loises all his care.

Wi' pipe an' book i' t' chimley nook Time flies on noiseless wing; Shoo sits an' knits wi' pleasant face, He's happy as a king.

Wi' tattlin' folks shoo's niver seen I' alley, loin(1) or street, But goes her way wi' modest step, Exact an' clean an' neat.

Her neighbours soomtimes watch her aat, An' say shoo's praad an' stiff; But all their gossip cooms to nowt, Aunt Nancy's reight enif.

Wi' basket oft shoo walks abroad To some poor lonely elf; To ivery one shoo knaws t' reight way At's poorer nor(2) herself.

Shoo niverr speyks o' what shoo gives, Kind, gentle-hearted sowl; I' charity her hands find wark, Shoo's good alike to all.

He niver tells her what he thinks, Nor flatters nor reproves; His life is baand wi' gowlden bands To t' woman at he loves.

G.o.d bless her, shoo's a dimond breet, Both good i' mind an' heart; An angel spreeadin' light an' love, That plays a n.o.ble part.

Shoo's worthy of a monarch's choice, Her worth can ne'er be towld ; Shoo cam to mak folks' hearts feel glad, Shoo's worth her weight i' gowld.

1 Lane. 2 Than.

Coom, don on thy Bonnet an' Shawl (1867)

Thomas Blackah

Coom, don on thy bonnet an' shawl, An' straighten thy cap an' thy hair; I's really beginnin' to stall(1) To see thee sit dazzin'(2) i' t' chair.

Sea coom, let us tak a walk oot, For t' air is as warm as a bee; I hennot(3) a morsel o' doot It'll help beath lile w.i.l.l.y an' thee.

We'll gan reet throo t' Middle Toon, As far as to Reavensgill Heead(4); When thar, we can sit wersens doon On t' crags close at side o' t' becksteead.

An' then, oh! hoo grand it'll be To pa.s.s a few minutes away, An' listen t' birds sing on each tree Their carols for closin' the day.

An' all aboot t' green n.o.bby hills, T' lile daisies their beauties will show; An' t' perfume at Flora distils Like breath o' the mornin' will blow.

Then don on thy bonnet an' shawl, An' coom let's be walkin' away; I's fairly beginnin' to stall To see thee sit dazzin' all t' day.

1 Grow tired. 2. Dozing. 3. Have not.

4. Near Pateley Bridge.