 | Poems, Ballads and Bucolics |  |
13
GRAND-DAD'S ANNIE, DEAD.
Heavy strooäk of th' Lord, wur that when Annie wur toök!
I'd amoäst a mind to quar'l and speäk reight oop to His faäce;
Sich a luvvable creater, sich a hand at her boök,
So gev' hoaver to meä, and grawing at sich a paäce!
I'd amoäst a mind to quar'l and speäk reight oop to His faäce;
Sich a luvvable creater, sich a hand at her boök,
So gev' hoaver to meä, and grawing at sich a paäce!
And fur all I wur Clerk in th' Choorch, at the sarvice theer i' “the yard,”
When we coomed to hap her oop, where the graäves loöks hoaver the Fen,
Tho' I nivver gev' waäy i' my life at funeral times, 'twas hard,
And loomps got stuck i' my throät and I muddled and messed “Amen.”
When we coomed to hap her oop, where the graäves loöks hoaver the Fen,
Tho' I nivver gev' waäy i' my life at funeral times, 'twas hard,
And loomps got stuck i' my throät and I muddled and messed “Amen.”
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Yon's her graäve i' the middle, I've setten it round wi' traäys;
“Man cometh up like a flower,” that's nivver noä reason why
“The beasts of the forest” should ramp o'er the mounds fur theer meät and graäze
Theer, wheer the flowers of men, God's tenderest gresses lie.
“Man cometh up like a flower,” that's nivver noä reason why
“The beasts of the forest” should ramp o'er the mounds fur theer meät and graäze
Theer, wheer the flowers of men, God's tenderest gresses lie.
And reg'lar as Saturday night brings Sunday near, i' th' laäne
The children gether th' flowers howr Annie luvved best of all,
And dress her owt nïsht fur the Sunday, wi' a daïsybuttercup chaäin,
And talk at the graäve, and tell her they've browt her a cowslip ball.
The children gether th' flowers howr Annie luvved best of all,
And dress her owt nïsht fur the Sunday, wi' a daïsybuttercup chaäin,
And talk at the graäve, and tell her they've browt her a cowslip ball.
Fur Annie was noorse you might call her to ivvery bairn i' th' school,
Not very sizeable neäther to hug 'em abowt as she did.
She'd help 'em all round wi' their reädin' and 'rithmetic summing rule,
And doctor theer cloäs in th' plaäy-time an' all with her neeädle and thrid.
Not very sizeable neäther to hug 'em abowt as she did.
She'd help 'em all round wi' their reädin' and 'rithmetic summing rule,
And doctor theer cloäs in th' plaäy-time an' all with her neeädle and thrid.
15
Aw sich a gell at her thimble, we've got the last frock as she had,
She'd beän at hivvery hinch of the Winsey-Kersey-mere,
Lappeted threeä times thruff, and darned was it nivver so bad,
Fur Annie, she couldn't abide the deariest bit of a teär.
She'd beän at hivvery hinch of the Winsey-Kersey-mere,
Lappeted threeä times thruff, and darned was it nivver so bad,
Fur Annie, she couldn't abide the deariest bit of a teär.
Theer's howr Luce, bad lass, as seems quoite t'other waäy bred,
Rags to her back, and rags to her skirts, and rags to her feeät;
And Annie last daäy as she sat i' her reight mind oop in her bed,
She tailored awaäy at Luce tomaäke her respectable neät.
Rags to her back, and rags to her skirts, and rags to her feeät;
And Annie last daäy as she sat i' her reight mind oop in her bed,
She tailored awaäy at Luce tomaäke her respectable neät.
Well she was took quoite sudden, “confixion” theer in the braäin;
Squoire's oän son died on it; it's quoite a quolity ill,
I fun it owt i' a boök as maäkes things sensible plaäin,
It's humours as rises oop fro' the body, and sewer to kill.
Squoire's oän son died on it; it's quoite a quolity ill,
I fun it owt i' a boök as maäkes things sensible plaäin,
It's humours as rises oop fro' the body, and sewer to kill.
Toök upo' Monday morn and died Good Friday at seven.
I'm glad she went that daäy, it's a great daäy still wi' the Lord,
It's a daäy when I think He must leän and look fro' the gaäte of Heaven,
To welcome the least as 'ull coom wi' a child's oän trust on His word.
I'm glad she went that daäy, it's a great daäy still wi' the Lord,
16
To welcome the least as 'ull coom wi' a child's oän trust on His word.
Well, howivver, she coömed fro' school, at teä she was hoff of her feeäd,
But down i' the floor she went ascrubbin' awaäy like owt;
And we sed, “She's lit i' her stummick on summat as hesn't agreeäd”;
“If the lass nobbut keeäps of her legs she'll be better to-morrow,” we thowt.
But down i' the floor she went ascrubbin' awaäy like owt;
And we sed, “She's lit i' her stummick on summat as hesn't agreeäd”;
“If the lass nobbut keeäps of her legs she'll be better to-morrow,” we thowt.
But nivver noä sleep that night: wi' her sum, and her pencil and slaäte,
As busy as beas she wur, and her head rampageously wild;
And now she would be fur mendin' of Luce or Lizzy or Kaäte,
And setten 'em off fur school like a muther, the poor little child.
As busy as beas she wur, and her head rampageously wild;
And now she would be fur mendin' of Luce or Lizzy or Kaäte,
And setten 'em off fur school like a muther, the poor little child.
But before the birds was awaäke she crep to question the clock,
And down at her time she went, fur Grand-dad's toäst an' his teä;
And oop she coomed for to put the frill to her Eäster frock,
Poor bairn, fur an Eäster mornin' she nivver should live to seeä.
17
And oop she coomed for to put the frill to her Eäster frock,
Poor bairn, fur an Eäster mornin' she nivver should live to seeä.
But we coäxed her into her bed, and she coäxed hersén oop as fast,
She would hev' the clogs she 'ed bowt, setten close to her heäd i' the chair;
And she shaäked all the pence fro' the box she 'ed saäved the six months past,
Fur to git howr Luce, ageän Eäster, just sich another pair.
She would hev' the clogs she 'ed bowt, setten close to her heäd i' the chair;
And she shaäked all the pence fro' the box she 'ed saäved the six months past,
Fur to git howr Luce, ageän Eäster, just sich another pair.
She was quoite disturbed i' her mind fur meä. “Next Sunday at Choorch
It's Eäster Sunday, Grand-dad, thou must hev' summat new on, tha knoäs;
Fur the rooks upon Eäster Sunday 'ull be watchin' whoäle waäy to the poorch,
And if ivver they seeä “Rag-Jack” they maäke sad work of his cloas.”
It's Eäster Sunday, Grand-dad, thou must hev' summat new on, tha knoäs;
Fur the rooks upon Eäster Sunday 'ull be watchin' whoäle waäy to the poorch,
And if ivver they seeä “Rag-Jack” they maäke sad work of his cloas.”
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And I sed, “Well bairn, work's bad, and I can't go gentle-man-fine,
But I'll promise I'll wear summat new, and that thou'lt nivver guess:
It's a pair of Tar-marl garters—tar-marl, you may call it twine,”
And she laughed, did Annie, right owt to think of my Eäster dress.
But I'll promise I'll wear summat new, and that thou'lt nivver guess:
It's a pair of Tar-marl garters—tar-marl, you may call it twine,”
And she laughed, did Annie, right owt to think of my Eäster dress.
But she laäy till Thursday mornin', agrawin' from wuss to wuss,
And we went fur the doctor twice, he wur busy, he cudn't coam;
And parson's wife stepped in, and she sent a widder to nuss,
And doctor he popped in laäte, and he sez, “She's agooin' hoam.”
And we went fur the doctor twice, he wur busy, he cudn't coam;
And parson's wife stepped in, and she sent a widder to nuss,
And doctor he popped in laäte, and he sez, “She's agooin' hoam.”
I went cleän bet to my work, I broäk my favourite plaäne,
I mashed my fingers to bits wi' missin' the naäils I druvv:
Fur I didn't expec' to seeä owr Annie alive agaäin,
And a Gran'-dad's heart may be owd, but a Gran'-dad's heart can luvv.
I mashed my fingers to bits wi' missin' the naäils I druvv:
Fur I didn't expec' to seeä owr Annie alive agaäin,
And a Gran'-dad's heart may be owd, but a Gran'-dad's heart can luvv.
19
And she slep, and slep, and slep, and her faäce like an aängel shone;
But wonce, upo' Friday mornin', she called fur a neeädle and threäd,
Stitched awaäy till the work as the Lord had gi'en 'er wur done,
And then laäy back wi' a smile, and grand-dad's Annie wur deäd.
But wonce, upo' Friday mornin', she called fur a neeädle and threäd,
Stitched awaäy till the work as the Lord had gi'en 'er wur done,
And then laäy back wi' a smile, and grand-dad's Annie wur deäd.
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