The Day His Wife Wes Barried

                      Teun-"Martha the Milkman's Dowtor"

                      Beside a newly hapt up grave.
                      The day his wife was barried,
                      Stood tipsy Dick,--the only one
                      That i' the churchyard tarried;
                      He luckt doon at the grass an' clay
                      That hid his wife for ivor,
                      Then wip'd his eye an' heav'd a sigh,
                      His feelins myed him shiver.--

                      Korus.
                      Oh, sad is me life, for aw;ve lost me luver,
                      Me wife's byeth deed an' barried;
                      Oh, mercy me, what mun aw de?
                      Wor Janey's deed an' barried!

                      "Fareweel," says he, "maw canny lass
                      Yor happy sowl's departed,
                      Ye've left us i' this weary world,
                      Aw's sure aw's broken-hearted;
                      The voice that myed us lowp wi' joy,
                      When fightin wi' the neybors,
                      Noo lies at rest-ne mair te pest
                      Wiv it's mischeevus labours.

                      "Them eyes that teuk the heart frae me
                      Just two eers gyen the races,
                      Ne mair 'ill shine, or wink, or stare;
                      Aw think aw see yor graces
                      When cummin frae the moor at neet,
                      Aw mind the neet wes rainy,
                      But, faith, an cuddint see a leg
                      Like yor's, maw cumley Janey!

                      "Them lips that oftin myed us wish
                      Aw had the chance te kiss them,
                      Ne mair 'ill move te treat yor luv,
                      Aw's sartin that aw'll miss them;
                      The dimpled cheek, an' yallow broo,
                      That show'd ne signs o' thinkin,
                      Ne mair aw'll see the sharp nose tee
                      That smelt when aw'd been drinkin.

                      "But, lass, aw'll miss ye i' the bed
                      That nivor needed warmin;
                      Aw'll mis the cheek se close te mine,
                      The squeezin close an' charmin;
                      Ne mair aw'll find yor big fat airms
                      Cum roond me neck se handy,
                      That myed us throo the neet forget
                      Throo day-time ye wor randy!

                      "Fareweel, aw'll try te cheer me-sel,
                      Aw cannet stop ne langer,
                      Te find releef aw'll droon me greef,
                      I'beer, or sumthink stranger;
                      Aw's sure te find sum uther lass
                      Te tyek yor place te cuddle,--
                      Aw've still sum feunril money left,
                      Fareweel,-aw's on the fuddil!"

                      -Joe Wilson