XII

An' I beänt not vaäin, but I knaws I 'ed led tha a quieter life

Nor her wi' the hepitaph yonder! "A faäithfnl an' loovin' wife!"

An' 'cos o' thy farm by the beck, an' thy windmill oop o' the croft,

Tha thowt tha would marry ma, did tha? but that wur a bit ower soft,

Thaw thou was es soäber es daäy, wi' a niced red faäce, an' es cleän

Es a shillin' fresh fro' the mint wi' a bran-new 'eäd o' the Queeän,

An' thy farmin' es cleän es thysen', fur, Steevie, tha kep' it sa neät

That I niver not spied sa much es a poppy along wi' the wheät,

An' the wool of a thistle a-flyin' an' seeädin' tha haäted to see;

'Twur es bad es a battle-twig 'ere i' my oän blue chaumber to me.

Ay, roob thy whiskers ageän ma, fur I could 'a taäen to tha well,

But fur thy bairns, poor Steevie, a bouncin' boy an' a gell.