The Miseries O' Shiftin

                      Teun- "Try a little Dancin."

                      Iv a' the troubles that thor is,
                      Thor's nyen like weary shiftin,
                      Besides the wark it spoils the things,
                      Ne matter what yor liftin;-
                      For Mistress Smith, that leev'd next door,
                      When shiftin te the second floor
                      Alang the street, caused sic a stir
                      The day she started shiftin!

                      Korus.
                      Iv a' the troubles that thor is,
                      Thor's nyen like weary shiftin,
                      Besides the wark it spoils the things
                      Ne matter what yor liftin.

                      The next day efter that, she stud
                      Bewilder'd like an' weary,
                      Te put things I' thor place she meant,
                      Wi' spirits not se cheery;
                      She luckt aboot, but where te start
                      She diddent knaw, she quite lost heart
                      Te try an' myek the hoose luck smart,
                      Wes puzzling efter shiftin.

                      Her breest was ful o' heavy sighs,
                      The draw'rs wes full o' scratches,
                      Says she-"If aw shift ony mair
                      Aw'd like te see them catch us;"
                      The clock weights rol'd aboot the floor
                      She hardly knew which way te stir,
                      An' wish'd she'd only knawn before
                      The miseries o' shiftin.

                      Her cheeny cups,-she'd only two,
                      Wes fairly smash'd te shivers,
                      Alang the tyeble ink an' oil
                      Wes runnin like two rivers;
                      The feather bed, se clean last neet,
                      Wes thick o' dirt, for I' the street
                      They'd let it fall, an' lost a sheet
                      Throo nowt else but the shiftin.

                      The tyebel creakt upon its legs,
                      Thy whole consarn wes craisin,
                      She lifted bundles here an' there,
                      An' broke the wesh-hand baisin;
                      She pickt things up, then let them fall,
                      An' knockt her heed agyen the wall,
                      Her only bairn begun te squall,
                      Te still myek warse the shiftin.

                      Frae morn te neet she struggled on,
                      Byeth in an' oot o' payshuns,
                      An' wish'd her man wes hyem frae wark,
                      On this-this sad occashun;
                      Te work at neet he thowt a shem,
                      He thowt she'd better did alien,
                      So faith, he diddent hurry hyem,
                      He diddent fancy shiftin.

                      The chair-backs diddent seem te care
                      For legs that they belang'd te,
                      The luckin-glass wes nicely scraped,
                      The bed wes put up rang tee,
                      For scaircely had they had a snore,
                      When doon they fell upon the floor.
                      \An' Jinny cursed, an' Harry swore
                      The devil tyek the shiftin.

                      -Joe Wilson