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A garland ov lillies aw'd twine, Jenny,
An place on thy curls golden bright,
But aw know 'at they quickly wod pine, Jenny,
I' despair at thy brow's purer white.
Them angels 'at fell bi ther pride, Jenny,
Wi' charms like thine nivver wor deckt;--
But yond muck 'at's ith' mistal's to side, Jenny,
Aw mun start on or else aw'st get seckt.
Varry sooin aw shall mak thi mi wife, Jenny,
An awr cot shall a paradise be;
Tha shall nivver know trubble or strife, Jenny,
If aw'm able to keep 'em throo thee.
If ther's happiness this side oth' grave, Jenny,
Tha shall sewerly come in for thi share;--
An aw'll tell thi what else tha shall have, Jenny,
When aw've a two-or-three moor minnits to spare.

Nooan so Bad.

This world is net a paradise,
Tho' railly aw dooant see,
What fowk should growl soa mich abaat;--
Its gooid enuff for me.
It's th' only world aw've ivver known,
An them 'at grummel soa,
An praich abaat a better land,
Seem varry looath to goa.
Ther's some things 'at awm apt to think,
If aw'd been th' engineer,
Aw might ha changed,--but its noa use,--
Aw connot interfere.


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