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Some in carriages rollin away,
To a ball, or a rout, or a revel;
But ther chariots may bear em some day
Varry near to the gates ov the devil.
Oh! charity surely is rare,
Or ther'd net be soa monny neglected;
For ther's lots wi enuff an' to spare,
An from them varry mich is expected.
An tho' in this world they've ther fill
Of its pleasures, an wilfully blinded,
Let deeath come--an surely it will--
They'll be then ov ther duties reminded.
An when called on, they, tremblin wi fear,
Say "The hungry an nak'd we ne'er knew,"
That sentence shall fall o' ther ear--
"Depart from me; I never knew you."
Then, oh! let us do what we can,
Nor with this world's goods play the miser;
If it's wise to lend money to man,
To lend to the Lord _must_ be wiser.

Coortin Days.

Coortin days,--Coortin days,--loved one an lover!
What wod aw give if those days could come ovver?
Weddin is joyous,--its pleasur unstinted;
But coortin is th' sweetest thing ivver invented.
Walkin an talkin,
An nursin Love's spark,
Charmin an warmin
Tho th' neet may be dark.


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