The Bobvbies I' The Beerhoose.

Teun-" Anna Maria Jones."

Thor wes Geordey, Tom, an' Davey,
Three jolly cheps, one neet,
Got on the spree at Mistress Smith's
A beerhouse 'lang the street.
Wi' monny a gill they had thor fill,
An' Time flew like the beer;
They diddent knaw hoo much had gyen
Till closing time wes near.

The hoose wes closed, an' still they stopt,
An' waddent gan away,
As the widow diddent much object,
If they wad quiet stay.
Ov course they a' said that they wad,
An' sittin doon agyen,
They myed thor-sels as happy as
If they had been at hyem.

But, all at once, a dubble knock
Myed ivryone start up;
Sum spillin what they'd just got in,
They hardly got a sup.
"Run-hide yor-sels!" says Mistresws Smith,
"An' aw'll gan te the door;
Just keep as quiet as ye can,
The way ye've deun before!"

Doon te the cellor Geordey ran;
Tom I' the kitchen hid;
Than Davey inte the back-yard,
Knew nicely hoot e did;
An' ivrything luckt a' soreen,
An' free frev ony din;
In fact, 'twes like an empty hoose
When she let the Bobby in.

The Peeler then begun te chaff,
Wi' monny a gill o' beer;
An' whole three-quarters ov a noor
He kept them all I' fear;
Until he got a fright he'sel,
A sharp knock myed him stir;
Says he, "Aw'd better hide me-sel,
Wor Sarjint's at the door!"

He ron doon te the cellor, where
He stumbled I' the dark:
His nose wes met by Geordey's fist-
It left a clivor mark;
I' the kitchen next he got the fut;
The back-door, then he tried,
Where Davey, wiv a friendly kick,
Sent Bobby clean outside.

The Sarjint cumin roond that way,
On duty bent, ne doot,
Detarmined te roughly handle
The forst one that com oot:
But as the Bobby wes the forst,
He went doon wiv a run,
The time the uthers scampered off,
A' laffin at the fun.

-Joe Wilson