Part 15 (1/2)

Be not afraid, for net a fether Fra of thy wing shall touch the hether, For I will give thee altogether Sweet liberty!

And glad am aw that aw came hither, To set thee free.

Now wing thy flight my little rover, Thy cursed captivity is over, And if thou crosses t' Straits o' Dover To warmer spheres; Hoping thou may live in clover, For years and years.

Happily, like thee, for fortune's fickle, I may, myself, be caught it snickle; And some kind hand that sees my pickle Through saving thee, May s.n.a.t.c.h me, too, fra death's grim shackle, And set me free.

Trip to Malsis Hall.

The day wor fine, the sun did s.h.i.+ne, No sines o' rain to fall, When t'North Beck hands, e jovial bands, Did visit Malsis Hall.

Up by the hill o' North Beck Mill, Both ould an' young did meet; To march I trow, e two-by-two, E processhun dahn the street.

An' Marriner's Band, we music grand, Struck up wi all ther might; Then one and all, both great and small, March'd on we great delight.

The girls and boys, we jovial noise, The fife and drum did play; For every one would have some fun On this eventful day.

Oud Joan o' Sall wi' all his palls, Marched on wi' all ther ease; Just for a lark, some did remark, There goes some prime oud cheese!

The Exlaheead chaps wi their girt caps, An' coits nut quite i'th' fas.h.i.+on; With arms ding-dong, they stretch along, An' put a fineish dash on.

Tom Wilkin drest up in his best, T' oud wife put on her fall, For they wor bent, what come or went, To dine at Malsis Hall.

There wor Tommy Twist, among the list, We his magenta snaat; Hez often said, sin he gat wed, T' oud la.s.s sud hev an aht.

Amongst the lot wor oud Sam b.u.t.t, As fine as oud Lord Digby; An' oud Queer Doos, wi' his strait shoos, An' wi' him Joseph Rigby.

There's Jimmy Gill, o' Castle hill,- That gentleman wi't stick,- There's Will an' Sam, and young John Lamb, An' Ben an' Earby d.i.c.k.

Aw scorn to lie-the reason why It is a shame awm sure!

But among the gob, wi' old Joe Hob, Behould a perfect cure.

I'd quite forgot, among the lot, There was old Pally Pickles, Wi' crinoline sho walks so fine, Sho's like a cat e p.r.i.c.kles.

Bud to me tale, aw musant fail Fer out on this occasion; We heead erect, and girt respect, We march to Keighley Station.

And Maud an' t' woife, az large az life, Gat in't train together; They both did say, they'd have a day, Among the blooming hether.

Nah-all fane gat in t' train, And Ned began to scream; Then Master Pratt doft off his hat, An' pept aht at the steeam.

This jovial band, when they did land, Got off the train so hearty, For they all went, wi' that intent, To have a grand tea-party!

The country folk did gape an' luke, To see us all delighted, For every one, did say begum, Aw wish I'd been invited.

Its joy to tell, they march as well As the Scots did ower the border, Ould Wellington and all his men Ne'er saw such marching order.

The lookers on, to see them come, Get on the second story; Right down the park they did the mark, Coming e full glory.

Then to the place, each smiling face, Move on in grand succession; The lookers on did say ”well done, It iz a grand processhun!”