Sally Wheatley's Comments
On The Luv Letter She Got Frae Charley Black, The Keyside Clerk.

SCENE.-The Hoose where Sally leeves-Sally I' the Kitchen, sittin reedin the last Luv Letter she got frae Charley Black (that's her lad, ye knaw).

SALLY.-Poatry agyen, bliss me, what a queer lad he is; what a
heedpiece he hes, aw sav, but aw wish he wad rite it i' the Newcassel tung,-aw's fairly bamboozled wi' se monny fine words.

(Reeds.)

How oft in lonely moments have I sought
A sweet repose in calm poetic thought,
To recall past joys, and each hope extol,
To light the darkness of a yearning soul.

Gudness grayshus me, what can Charley mean? He cannet for a moment imadgin that aw meant owt serious when aw went te Jesmond Gardens wi' Jimmy Allan. Aw's sure Jimmy's a greet frind 0' mine, an' aw might as weel turn jealous me-sel an' say sumthing, for it diddent luck varry weel 0' Charley settin Hannah Broon hyem frae the dancin at Mrs. Elliott's. Aw wassent hawf pleased when Peggy Morrison tell'd us aboot it.

Our hearts were not made to be thrown away,
Or FIRST LOVE born to live but for a day;
'Mid forms and faces made to charm the eye,
First Love may sleep but it can never die!

Whey, that is nice i-it just puts us i' mind 0' the neet when Charley an' me had wor forst wawk throo Friday Fields. What a neet that was, aw say! Aw's sure aw varry nigh fainted when Charley tell'd us that aw wes his" forst an' only luv;" His voice trimmild se, an' he luck'd se frighten'd like, poor lad. Maw bonny Charley!

Could we believe that whilst there's doubt there's hope,
How soon might sadness with despair elope.

Aw wad far seuner see Charley elope wi' me, but thor's nyen ov that noo-a-days. What fun thor mun heh been when aud Nelly Simpson's granmuther's greet granfethur ron away wi' Mistress Murphy (a widow body that leeved next door, an' a distant relayshun te Betty McGill that keeps a mangle at the tuther side 0' the street) te Gretna Green, an' got a blacksmith te marry them wiv a hammer. But aw dinnet knaw what te myek 0' Charley, he hes ne confidence like; an' it dissent luck wee! the lasses deein a' the coortin thorsels, aw's sure it dissent!

'Twas so with me-if truth must now be told,
I thought of thee-pray do not deem me bold;
For when the heart is full the tongue must speak,
On paper even consolation seek.

Consolayshun on paper, hooiver i' the world will he find consolayshun on paper? Aw wish Charley had niver written poatry, Ye cannet myek these fellows oot at a. Wad ye believe he actwilIy said it wes a greet releef tiv his feelins, when he cud put doon his thowts on paper? the silly lad, when he might hey cum an'tell'd me what he wes put aboot aboot, an' where will he find better consolayshun? Charley, if ye only knew't !

Your smile shone on me like a sunny morn, Affection hoped and cherished a return,
But when your looks grew cold, hope disappear-d,
And bitter feelings in its place career'd;
I thought another, much more happy, he
Had claim'd the heart I thought belong'd to me.

Iv a' yor life did ye ivor see such a jealous lot 0' mortals as the men foaks. Aw've nivor had ony peace since Jimmy Allan per swayded us te hey a wawk wiv him.

Then into folly-which I now repent,
I heedless rush'd-s-say, love, can you relent?

Relent! aw think aw can, but it dissent luck weel gein in thereckly. Aw'll plague him a bit forst. Aw knaw varry weel what folly he's hintin at, the slee deevll, He hessent forgettin settin Hannah hyem frae Elliott's dancin yit.

Forgive and favour, if you still are free,
My earnest wish to live and love but thee;
Then once more o'er me let your spell be thrown,
That I may can you-Sarah, dear, mine own!

SARAH! what a funny soond that hes te be sure, an' it's me reet nyem tee. He wants te call me his awn! it's a' settled, it's a sartinty it's settled; he just needs te ax me fethur an' muther, for it's a' reet wi' me. Jinny Thompson's promised us the mahogany tyeble that stands aside the clock, an' me Uncle Bob's gan te myek us a prisint ov a feather bed an' two chairs an' a candlestick he bowt second-hand the tuther day, so thor's glorious prospects, an' if Charley cannel myek eneuff te keep us cumfortable, aw'll gan te wark me-sel (aw's a cap myeker), for thor's ne disgrace iv a wummin workin as lang as thor's ne bairns i' the road.

Source: Joe Wilson,(author) Songs and Drolleries, 1890.