AW NIVIR CAN CALL HUR MY WIFE.[260]

AW'M a weyver ya knaw, an awf deead, So aw du all at iver aw can Ta put away aat o' my heead The thowts an the aims of a man! Eight shillin a wick's whot aw arn, When aw've varry gooid wark an full time, An aw think it a sorry consarn Fur a hearty young chap in his prime! But ar maister says things is as well As they hae been, ur ivir can be; An aw happen sud think soa mysel, If he'd nobud swop places wi me; But he's welcome ta all he can get, Aw begrudge him o' noan o' his brass, An aw'm nowt bud a madlin ta fret, Ur ta dream o' yond bewtiful lass! Aw nivir can call hur my wife, My love aw sal nivir mak knawn, Yit the sorra that darkens hur life Thraws a shadda across o' my awn; An aw'm suar when hur heart is at eeas, Thear is sunshine an singin i' mine, An misfortunes may come as they pleeas, Bud they nivir can mak ma repine. That Chartist wur nowt bud a sloap, Aw wur fooild be his speeches an rhymes, His promises wattered my hoap, An aw leng'd fur his sunshiny times; But aw feel 'at my dearist desire Is withrin within ma away, Like an ivy-stem trailin' it mire, An deein' fur t' want of a stay! When aw laid i' my bed day an neet, An wur geen up by t'doctur fur deead— God bless hur—shoo'd come wi' a leet An a basin o' grewil an breead; An aw once thowt aw'd aht wi' it all, Bud sa kindly shoo chattud an smiled, Aw wur fain tu turn ovvur ta t'wall, An ta bluther an sob like a child! An aw said as aw thowt of her een, Each breeter fur't tear at wur in't; It's a sin ta be nivir furgeen Ta yoke hur ta famine an stint; So aw'l e'en travel forrud thru life, Like a man thru a desert unknawn, Aw mun ne'er hev a hoam an a wife, Bud my sorras will all be my awn! Soa aw' trudge on aloan as aw owt, An whativir my troubles may be, They'll be sweetened, my lass, wi' the thowt That aw've nivir browt trouble ta thee; Yit a burd hes its young uns ta guard, A wild beast, a mate in his den; An aw cannot but think that its hard— Nay, deng it, aw'm roarin agen!