Poems and Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

My gronfaither, Willie,
Wur born o'th moorside,
In a cosy owd house
Where he lived till he died;
He wur strong-limbed an' hearty,
An' manly, an' kind;
An' as blithe as a lark, for
He'd nought on his mind.
Derry down.

161

II

His wife wur th' best craiter
That ever wur made;
An' they'd three bonny lasses
As ever broke brade;
An' five strappin' lads—
They looked grand in a row,
For they'rn six feet apiece—
That makes ten yards in o'!
Derry down.

III

My gronfaither's house
Wur a cosy owd shop,
An' as sweet as a posy
Fro' bottom to top;
Parlour, loom-house, an' dairy;
Bedrooms, greight an' smo';
An' a shinin' owd kitchen,—
The best nook of o'!
Derry down.

162

IV

He'd cows in a pastur,
An' sheep o'th moorside;
An' a nice bit o' garden
Wur th' owd fellow's pride;
With his looms an' his cattle,
He'd plenty o' wark
For his lads an' his lasses,
Fro' dayleet to dark.
Derry down.

V

A gray-yedded layrock
O' three-score an' twelve,
He'd weave an' he'd warble,
He'd root an' he'd delve
Fro' daybreak to sunset,
Then creep to his nook,
At the sweet ingle-side,
For a tot an' a smooke.
Derry down.

163

VI

An' fro th' big end o' Pendle
To Robin Hood's Bed;
Fro Skiddaw to Tandle's
Owd grove-tufted yed;
Fro th' Two Lads to Tooter's,
There's never a pot
That's sin as much glee
As my gronfaither's tot.
Derry down.

VII

Fro' Swarthmoor i' Furness,
Where th' dew upo' th' fells
Keeps twinkle to th' tinkle
Of Ulverston bells;
Fro Black Coombe to Blacks'nedge,
No cup mon could fill,
Did moore good an' less harm
Than my gronfaither's gill.
Derry down.

164

VIII

As I journey through life
May this fortin be mine,
To be upreet an' downreet
Fro youth to decline:
An' walk like a mon,
Through whatever betide,
Like my gronfaither, Willie,
That live't o'th moorside.
Derry down.