 | Vulgar Verses |  |
But you winna gie me leave, I mun e'en be a servant still—
For you've always bin my master, sir, an' I know you always will;
An' I thank you for what you ha' done, for I know what a bother it is
For folks to put up wi' a outdoor wench, in a indoor place like this.
But service is crampin' work, an' oor Lizzie's a poor fond soul;
An' I sits o' my heels by the kitchen wall, an' looks at the scuttle o' coal,
An' thinks o' the pit as it come from, an' me a-drawin' theer,
Till I feels I can hardly bear mysel, this life do seem so queer.
Aye, you'd better come back pretty soon, sir, or you'll maybe find me gone;
An' you'll know what work I ha' gone to, for I cares for nobbut one:
I was bred to a collier's life, you see, an' theer's nothing I like so well;
An' I'll have it ageean, if I dies for it, or my name inna Boompin' Nell.
For you've always bin my master, sir, an' I know you always will;
An' I thank you for what you ha' done, for I know what a bother it is
For folks to put up wi' a outdoor wench, in a indoor place like this.
But service is crampin' work, an' oor Lizzie's a poor fond soul;
An' I sits o' my heels by the kitchen wall, an' looks at the scuttle o' coal,
An' thinks o' the pit as it come from, an' me a-drawin' theer,
Till I feels I can hardly bear mysel, this life do seem so queer.
Aye, you'd better come back pretty soon, sir, or you'll maybe find me gone;
An' you'll know what work I ha' gone to, for I cares for nobbut one:
I was bred to a collier's life, you see, an' theer's nothing I like so well;
An' I'll have it ageean, if I dies for it, or my name inna Boompin' Nell.
| Vulgar Verses | |