The Author respectfully submits to the general public of his native town and district, this volume of poems, containing some of the chief results of his musings for the past thirty years. He hopes that the volume, which is in reality the production of a life-time, will in many ways be deemed worthy of the kind and courteous approbation of his numerous patrons and friends, as well as the indulgence of literary critics.
keep it cleean;
It wod thi poor owd mother hurt,
If tha wur meean.
Don't kal abaht like monny a wun,
Then hev to broil, an' sweeat, an' run;
Bud alus hev thi dinner done
Withaht a mooild;
If it's nobbut meil, lass, set it on,
An' hev it boiled.
Now Mary, I've no more ta say--
Tha gets thi choice an' tak thi way;
An' if tha leets to rue, I pray,
Don't blame thi mother:
I wish yeh monny a happy day
Wi wun another.
T'owd Blacksmith's Advice ta hiz Son Ned.
So, Ned, awm geen ta understand,
Tha'rt bahn ta join i' wedlock band,
Ta travil thru life's weeary strand,
Yond lass an' thee;
But if yer joinin' heart an' hand,
It pleases me.
Nah tha'll hev trubbles, Ned, ta bear,
While pushin' thru this world o' care,
An' wat tha'll hev it face ta stare,
It's hard ta tell;
Life's ups and dahns tha'll get ta share,
So pleas thisel'.
Tha'rt weel an' strong, long may it la