Poems and Lancashire Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

256

BUCKLE TO.

I

Good lorjus days, what change there is
Upon this mortal ground;
As time goes flyin' o'er one's yed,
Heaw quarely things come reawnd;
What ups an' deawns, an' ins an eawts;—
What blendin' ill an' well
There is i' one poor crayter's life,—
It is not for to tell!

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II

When mornin' blinks, mon lies an' thinks
Abeawt the comin' day;
He lays his bits o' schames so sure,
They connot roll astray;
He cracks his thumbs, an' thinks o'll leet,
Just heaw it's planned to go;
But, when he looks things up at neet,
He seldom finds it so.

III

An' when a storm comes, dark an' leawd,—
Wi' mony a weary sigh,
He toots abeawt, i'th slifter't cleawd,
To find a bit o' sky;

258

He mopes an' moans, he grunts an' groans,
An' thinks his comfort's o'er;
But, th' minute th' welkin's breet again,
He's peearter than before.

IV

Good luck to th' mortal that can ston
Good luck, beawt bein' preawd;
That keeps his yed fro grooin' whot,—
His heart fro grooin' cowd;
That walks his chalks, an' heeds no talks,
But does the best he con;
An' when things are not to his mind,
Can bide it like a mon.

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V

Then, let's be lowly when its fine,
An' cheerful when its dark;
Mon ne'er wur made to mope an' whine,
But buckle to his wark;
It sweetens th' air, it leetens care,—
I never knew it fail:
Go at it, then,—an' let's toe fair;
Owd Time 'll tell a tale.

Good lorjus days, Good lord of our days.

Yed, head.

Crayter, creature.

Thinks o'll leet, thinks everything will light or befall.

Neet, night.

Toots abeawt, peeps about, searches.

Slifter'd cleawd, slifter, a slit, or loophole; slifter'd cleawd, a slit, or broken, or slightly-scattered cloud.

Th' welkin, the sky.

Peearter, perter, prouder.

Grooin' whot, growing hot.

Grooin' cowd, growing cold.

Con, can.

Mon, man.

Wark, work.

Toe fair, toe the mark fairly. Do justice; act “upon the square.”