Random Rhymes and Rambles Part 7

An t'other like a whipping-post, Bud happen not as thin, Sed "T'times ul alter yet, oud fooil, So pray, nah, hod thi din?"

I tuke no farther gawm o' them, Bud paddled on me way; Fer when I ivver mack a vow, I stick to what I say.

I heddant goan so far agean, Afoar I heeard a voice, Exclaiming-wi a fearful groan- "Go mack a hoyle e t'ice!"

I turned ma rhaand where t'saand com fro, An cautiously I bowed, Saying thenk yo, Mr. Magic Voice, I'm flaid o' gettin coud.

Bud nah a sudden shack tuke place, A sudden change o' scene; Fer miles where all wor white afore, Wor nah a bottle-green.

Then com a woman donned e white, A mantle gert she wore; A nicer lukin, smarter form, I nivver saw afore.

Her features did resemble wun O that kind-hearted lot, At's ivver ready to relieve The poor man in his cot.

Benevolence wor strongly marked Upon her n.o.ble heead; An on her breast yo might hev read, "Who dees fer want o' breead?"

In fact, a kinder-hearted soul Oud Yorksher cuddant boast; An who wod feel the least alarmed, To talk to sitch a goast?

I didant feel at all afraid, As nearer me she drew; I sed-Good evening, Mrs. Goast, Hah ivver do yo dew?

Sho nivver seemed to tack no gawm, Bud pointed up at t'mooin, An beckon'd me to follow her Dahn be t'Wattery Loin.

So on we went, an dahn we turned, An nawther on us s.p.a.ck; Bud nah an then sho twined her heead, To see if I'd runned back.

At t'last sho stopped an turned her rahnd An luked ma fair e t'een; 'Twor nah I picked it aaght at wunce, Sho wor no human been.

Sho rave a paper fra her breast, Like some long theatre bill; An then sho sed "Weak mortal, Will ta read to me this will?

But first, afoar tha starts to read, I'll tell thee who I iz; Tha lukes a deacent chap enuff, I judge it by thi phiz.

Well, I've a job fer thee to do, That is, if tha will do it; I think tha'rt t'likeliest man I knaw, Becos tha art a poet.

If I am not mistaken, friend, I offan hear thi name; I think they call thi "John o t'Bog;"

Says I-"Oud la.s.s, it's t'same."

"It's just so mony years this day, I knaw it by me birth, Sin I departed mortal life, An left this wicked earth.

But ere I closed these een to go Into eternity, I thowt I'd do a n.o.ble act, A deed o' charity.

I hed a bit o' bra.s.s, tha knaws, Some land an' property; I thowt it might be useful, John, To folks e poverty.

So then I made a will o t'lot, Fer that did suit my mind; I planned it as I thowt wor t'best, To benefit mankind.

I left a lot to t'Grammar Skooil, By reading t'will tha'll see; That ivvery body's barn, tha knaws, May hev ther skooling free.

An if tha be teetotal, John, Tha may think it a fault, Bud to ivvery woman ligging in I gav a peck o' malt.

Bud t'biggest bulk o' bra.s.s at's left, As tha'll hev heeard afore, Wor to be dealt hauf-yearly Among arr Keighley poor.

I certainly did mack a flaw, Fer which I've rued, alas!

'Twor them at troubled t'parish, John, Sud hev no Feoffee Bra.s.s.

An nah, if tha will be so kind, Go let mi t'trustees knaw At I sall be obleged to them To null that little flaw.

An will ta mention this a.n.a.ll, Wal tha's an intervue?- Tell em to share t'moast bra.s.s to t'poor, Whativver else they due.

Then I sall rest an be at peace, Boath here an when e Heav'n; Wal them at need it will rejoice Fer t'bit o' bra.s.s I've giv'n.

An tell em to remember thee Upon t'next Feoffee Day!"

I says-I sallant get a meg, I'm getting parish pay.

So when sho'd spocken what sho thowt, An tell'd me what to doo, I ax'd her if sho'd harken me, Wal I just said a word or two.

I'll nut tell yo one word a lie, As sure as my name's 'John;'

I think at yo are quite e t'mist Abaht things going on.

Folks gether in fra far an near, When it is Feoffee-Day; An think they hev another lowse Wi t'little bit o' pay.

Asteead o' geeing t'bra.s.s t' poor, It's shocking fer to tell, They'll hardly let em into t'door- I knaw it be mesel.

Asteead a being a peck o' malt Fer t'wimmen lying in, It's geen to rascals ower-grown, To drink e rum an gin.

Then them at is-I understand- What yo may call trustees, They hev ther favorites, yo knaw, An gives to who they please.

Some's nowt to do bud shew ther face, An skrew ther maath awry; An t'bra.s.s is shuvv'd into ther hand, As they are pa.s.sing by.

There's mony a woman I knaw weel, Boath middle-aged an oud, At's waited for ther bit o' bra.s.s, An catch'd ther deeath o' coud.

Wal mony a knave wi lots o' bra.s.s, Hes c.u.m e all his pride, An t'flunkeys, fer to let him pa.s.s, Hes push'd t'poor folk aside.

Fra Bradford, Leeds, an Halifax, If they've a claim, they come; But what wi t'Railway fares an drink, It's done be they get home.

Wal mony a poorer family At's nut been nam'd e t'list, At weel desarves a share o' t'spoil, Bud thenk yo-they are miss'd.

We see a man at hes a haase, Or happen two or three, They Mr. him, an hand him aaght Five times as mitch as me.

'Twor better if yo'd teed yer bra.s.s Tight up e sum oud seck, An getten t'Corporation brooms To sweep it into t'Beck."

No longer like Capias' form, Wi a tear e boath her een, But like the gallant Camilla, The Volscian warrior Queen.

She, kneeling, pointed up aboon, An vow'd be all so breet, Sho'd rack her vengence on ther heeads, Or watch em day an neet.

Sho call'd the Furies to her aid, An Dirae's names sho us'd, An sware if I hed spocken t'truth, Sho hed been sore abus'd.

Alas, poor Goast!-I sed to her- Indeed it is too true; Wi that sho vanish'd aht o' t'seet, Saying "Johnny lad, adieu!"