Well aw've just mended th'fire wi' a cob;
Owd Swaddle has brought thi new shoon;
There's some nice bacon-collops o' th' hob,
An' a quart o' ale-posset i' th' oon;
Aw've brought thi top-cwot, doesta know,
For th' rain's comin' deawn very dree;
An' th' har-stone's as white as new snow;
Come whoam to thi childer an' me.
An' th' har-stone's as white as new snow;
Come whoam to thi childer an' me.
When aw put little Sally ti bed,
Hoo cried, 'cose her feyther weren't theer,
So I kissed th'little thing, an' aw said
As'ow bring her a ribbin fro' th'fair;
An' aw gav' her her doll, an' some rags,
An' a nice little white cotton-bo';
An' aw kissed her again; but hoo said
'As hoo wanted to kiss thee an' o.
An' aw kissed her again; but hoo said
'As hoo wanted to kiss thee an' o.
An' Dick, too, aw'd sich wark wi' him,
Afore aw could get him upstairs;
Well I promised eed buy him a drum,
He said, when he're sayin' his prayers;
Then he looked i' my faze, an' he said,
"Has th' boggarts taen howd o' my dad?"
An' he cried til his e'en were quite red –
He likes thee some weel does yon lad!
An' he cried til his e'en were quite red –
He likes thee some weel does yon lad!
At th'lung-length, aw geet 'em laid still;
An' aw hearken't folks feet 'at went by;
So aw iron't o my clooas reet weel,
An' aw hang'd 'em o' th' maiden to dry;
Then aw'd mended thi stockin's an' shirts,
Aw sit deawn to knit i' my cheer,
An' aw rayley did feel raythur hurt –
Mon, aw'm one-ly when theaw aren't theer.
An' aw rayley did feel raythur hurt –
Mon, aw'm one-ly when theaw aren't theer.
"Aw've a drum an' a trumpet for Dick;
Aw've a yard o' blue ribbin for Sal;
Aw've a book full o' babs; an' a stick
An' some 'bacco an' pipes for mysel;
Aw've brought thee some coffee an' tay –
Iv thae'll feel i' my pocket, thae'll see;
An' aw've brought tho a new cap today lass –
I olez bring summat for thee!
An' aw've brought tho a new cap today lass –
I olez bring summat for thee!
"God bless thee, my lass; aw'll come whoam,
An' aw'll kiss thee an' th' childer o reawnd;
An ni matter, 'at wherever aw roam,
Aw'm fain to get back to th' owd greawnd;
Aw con do wi' a crack o'er a glass;
Aw con do wi' a bit ov a spree;
But aw've no gradely comfort, my lass,
Except wi' yon childer an' thee."
But aw've no gradely comfort, my lass,
Except wi' yon childer an' thee."