Noo, Willy, put the’y wallet doon,
An’ cum an’ git the’y tea;
It izzan’t oft ta hez a chance
Ta hit wi’t barns an’ me:
We’ve waited for the’y cumin heame,
T’ thick end ov hofe an hooer;
An’ t’ barns were flaid thoo’d gitten lost,
Wi’ cummin ower t’moor.

Ah wish the’y wark lade neather heame,
Er we were flit away,
Fer t’ lads oft wish ‘at they cud see
Ther fadther ivvery day:
Poor things, they nivver gan ta bed,
Bud what they freeat an’ cry;
Ah’s forced ta pet, an’ tell ’em thoo’l
Be’y cumin bye an’ bye.

Yah neet this week, lile Mat began
Ta plean aboot his weame;
He mawn’d and maddl’d all aboot
His daddy cumin heame:
Ah nivver gat a wink o’ sleep,-
Ah thowt he’re gine ta dee;
Ah cried mesel, an’ wad ha’ geen
All t’ world to ha’ just seen thee.

Ah’ve weshe’d an’ darn’d the’y stockins, lad,
An patch’d the’y blue lin slop;
Ah fettl’d ivvery button hoal,
Fra t’ boddum up ta t’ top.
T’ first thing this mornin, wen hooer Sal
Had all her poddish done,
She’y fetch’d hoot t’ brush an’ t’ blackin pot
An’ clean’d the’y Sunda shoon.

Ah’ve meade six razin pies for thee,-
Tharr’s yan fer ivvery day;
Thoo sees ah doan’t fergit the’y, lad,
Fer all thoo gans away.
Bud t’ hoose leaks dowly all t’ week lang-
It’s hardly like itsen
Hoo badly off wad wimmin be,
If they sud loss all t’ men!

Thomas Blackah