THE WILLINGTON WEATHER PROPHET

TEUN-" Pull away Cheerily."

THOR'S sum men that's born te be weel celebrated,
An' aud Tommy Williamson fairly licks a';
Thor's nyen se renoon'd as the Weather Predictor,
He beats all eccentrics that ivor aw saw.
Aw've seen him drest up wiv a hat an' a band on't
A reed, white, an' blue, that wad dazzle yor eyes;
At pic-nics, or owt that 'ill cawse a sensashun,
Aw've thawt he wes king 0' the foaks that's se wise.

Korus.

Thor's sum men that's born te be wee! celebrated,
But aud Tommy Williamson fairly licks a';
Thor's nyen se renoon'd as the Weather Predictor,
He beats all eccentrics that ivor aw saw.

His mem'ry wad baffle the best 0' gud scholars,
He nivvor forgets brickfist, dinner, an' tea,
An' wi' the lang brush he's a stunner at danein,
Besides a fine singer, an' fond ov a spree;
Ye'll see half-a-column sumtimes i' the papers,
Where he tells ye what days 'ill be wet an' what dry,
An' for gein ye the gud ov such grand informashun,
The Willington Prophet ye'll nivvor find shy.

He wrote his awn hist'ry te please his ackwentinse,
An' tells ye that Norton wes where he wes born,
He's been a man-sarvint tiv a' kinds 0' farmers,
His adventors sum lybory beuk wad adorn ;
He menshuns what kortships he's had iv his lifetime,
An' tells ye what fine-luckin lasses he's had;
But wiv all his greet fancy for Jenny an' Nancy,
He says that his Sarah wes pick 0' the squad.

But Sarah's departed, an' left Tommy wifeless,
He langs for anuther te fill up her place;
But Tommy, i' kortin's, knawn nowt but misfortin,
Yor sympathy give tiv his pitiful case;
He's knawn what it is te be completely jilted,
Wiv a' his greet knowledge he knew less then sum;
For he'd nivvor heh thowt ov agyen gettin married,
If he cud hey prophesied what wes te cum.

Aw've often heard mentioned, but mind it's a secret,
That the foaks j' the coonty intend for te raise
A moniment grand te the mem'ry 0' Tommy,
When he's deed, just as fine an' as high as Earl Grey's;
But lang may he leeve, lang may we see Tommy,
May he nivvor knaw what a storm is at hyem;
If he marries agyen, may they myek plenty prophets,
An' leeve a young Tommy te keep gud his nyem

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