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Yorkshire Ditties, Second Series

Lost Love.

Reading edition

Shoo wor a bonny, bonny lass

Her een as black as sloas,

Her hair a flying' thunner claad,

Her cheeks a blowing rooas;

Her smile coom like a sunny gleam

Her cherry lips to curl;

Her voice wor like a murm'ring stream

At flowed through banks o' pearl.

Aw long'd to claim her for mi own,

But nah mi love is crost;

An aw mun wander on alooan,

An' mourn for her aw've lost.

Aw couldn't ax her to be mine,

Wi' poverty at th' door:

Aw niver thowt breet een could shine

Wi' love for one so poor;

But nah ther's summat i' mi breast,

Tells me aw miss'd mi way:

An' lost that lass I loved th' best

Throo fear shoo'd say me nay.

Aw long'd to claim her for, &c.,

Aw saunter'd raand her cot at morn,

An' oft i'th' dark o'th' neet;

Aw've knelt mi daan i'th loin to find

Prints ov her tiny feet:

An' under th' window, like a thief,

Aw've crept to hear her spaik,

An' then aw've hurried home agean

For fear mi heart ud braik.

Aw long'd to claim her for, &c.,

Another bolder nor misen,

Has robb'd me o' mi dear,

An' nah aw ne'er may share her joy

An' ne'er may dry her tear;

But though aw'm heartsick, lone, an' sad,

An' though hope's star is set,

To know she's lov'd as aw'd ha' lov'd

Wod mak me happy yet.

Aw long'd to claim her for, &c.,

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