Poesies from a country garden: selections from the works of E. Waugh (Google eBook)

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Page 54 - Becose on him seein' my een ; My cheek went as red as a rose ; — There 's never a mortal can tell Heaw happy aw felt ; for, thae knows, One couldn't ha' axed him theirsel'. But th' tale wur at th
Page 54 - He met me i' th' lone t' other day (Aw wur gooin' for wayter to th' well), An' he begged that aw 'd wed him i' May, Bi th' mass, if he 'll let me, aw will ! When he took my two honds into his, Good Lord, heaw they trembled between ! An' aw durstn't look up in his face, Becose on him seein
Page 42 - cose her feyther weren't theer, So aw kiss'd th' little thing, an' aw said Thae'd bring her a ribbin fro' th' fair; An' aw gav' her her doll, an
Page 63 - It winds by a rindlin' wayter side, An' o'er a posied lea: It wanders into a shady dell ; An' when aw ve done for th' day, Oh, aw never can sattle this heart o' mine, Beawt walkin
Page 55 - As ever slept eawt into th' sun. Go, jump at thy chance, an' get wed ; An' mak th' best o' th' job when it's done ! " Eh, dear ! but it's time to be gwon : Aw shouldn't like Jamie to wait ; Aw connut for shame be too soon, An' aw wouldn't for th' world be too late. Aw'm o
Page 42 - For th' rain's comin' deawn very dree; An' th' har-stone's as white as new snow; Come whoam to thi childer an' me. When aw put little Sally to bed, Hoo cried, 'cose her feyther weren't theer, So aw kiss'd th' little thing, an' aw said Thae'd bring her a ribbin fro
Page 42 - em laid still ; An' aw hearken't folks' feet at went by ; So aw iron't o' my clooas reet weel, An' aw hanged 'em o'th maiden to dry ; When aw'd mended thi stockin's an...
Page 44 - An' aw'll kiss thee an' th' childer o' reawnd ; Thae knows, at wheerever aw roam, Aw'm fain to get back to th' owd greawnd ; Aw can do wi' a crack o'er a glass ; Aw can do wi' a bit ov a spree ; But aw've no gradely comfort, my lass, Except wi
Page 49 - Chirrup wur a mettled cowt : His heart an' limbs wur true ; At foot race, or at wrostlin'-beawt, Or aught he buckled to ; At wark or play, reet gallantly He laid into his game : An' he're very fond o' singing-brids — • That's heaw he geet his name.
Page 41 - Aw've just mended th' fire wi' a cob; Owd Swaddle has brought thi new shoon; There's some nice bacon-collops o' th' hob, An' a quart o' ale-posset i' th' oon; Aw've brought thi top-cwot, doesta know, For th' rain's comin' deawn very dree; An' th' har-stone's as white as new snow; Come whoam to thi childer an

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