Blogs and book

Awve mi hobbies to keep me i' toit,
Awve noa whistle nor bell to obey,
Awve mi wark when aw like to goa to it,
An mi time's all mi own, neet an day.
An tho' some pass me by wi a sneer,
An some pity mi lowly estate,
Aw think awve a deeal less to fear
Nor them at's soa wealthy an great.
When th' sky stretches aght blue an breet,
An th' heather's i' blossom all round,
Makkin th' mornin's cooil breezes smell sweet,
As they rustle along ovver th' graand.
When aw listen to th' lark as he sings
Far aboon, ommost lost to mi view,
Aw lang for a pair ov his wings,
To fly wi him, an sing like him, too.
When aw sit under th' shade of a tree,
Wi mi book, or mi pipe, or mi pen,
Aw think them at's sooary for me
Had far better pity thersen.
When wintry storms howl ovver th' moor,
An snow covers all, far an wide,
Aw carefully festen mi door,
An creep cloise up to th' fire inside.
A basin o' porridge may be,
To some a despisable dish,
But it allus comes welcome to me,
If awve nobbut as mich as aw wish.


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