Part 35 (1/2)

[Footnote: The Gore. Dangerous sands so called, at the mouth of the River Parret, in the Bristol Channel.]

O' heerins, sprats, an porpuses-- O' all fish a cood tell; Who bit he amangst tha Fishermen-- A always bear'd tha bell.

Tommy Came ad hired o' Players, Bit niver zeed 'em pla; Tha war actin at Bejwater; There a went wi' Sally Da.

When tha curtain first draw'd up, than Sapriz'd war Tommy Came; A'd haf a mine ta him awa, Bit stapp'd vor very shame.

Tha vust act bein auver Tha zecond jist begun, Tommy Came still wonder'd grately, Ta him it war naw fun.

Zaw ater lookin on zumtime, Ta understand did strive; _There now_, zed he, _I'll gee my woth_ [Footnote: Oath.]

_That tha be all alive!_

MARY RAMSEY'S CRUTCH.

I zeng o' _Mary Ramsey's Crutch!_ ”Thic little theng!”--Why 'tis'n much It's true, but still I like ta touch Tha cap o' _Mary Ramsey's Crutch!_ She zed, wheniver she shood die, Er little crutch she'd gee ta I.

Did Mary love me? eese a b'leeve.

She died--a veo vor her did grieve,-- An _but_ a veo--vor Mary awld, Outliv'd er friends, or voun 'em cawld.

Thic crutch I had--I ha it still, An port wi't wont--nor niver will.

O' her I lorn'd tha cris-cross-lain; I haup that't word'n quite in vain!

'Twar her who teach'd me vust ta read Jitch little words as _beef_ an _bread_; An I da thenk 'twar her that, ater, Lorn'd I ta read tha single zater.

Poor Mary oten used ta tell O' das a past that pleas'd er well; An mangst tha rest war zum o' jay When I look'd up a little bway.

She zed I war a good one too, An lorn'd my book athout tha _rue_.

[Footnote: This Lady, when her scholars neglected their duty, or behaved ill, rubbed their fingers with the leaves of _rue!_]

Poor Mary's gwon!--a longful time Zunz now!--er little scholard's prime A-ma-be's past.--It must be zaw;-- There's nothin stable here belaw!

O' Mary--all left is--er _crutch!_ An thaw a gift, an 'tword'n much 'Tis true, still I da like ta touch Tha cap o' _Mary Ramsey's Crutch!_ That I lov'd Mary, this ool tell.

I'll za na moor--zaw, fore well! [Footnote: Fare ye well.]

HANNAH VERRIOR.

Tha za I'm maz'd,--my Husband's dead, My chile, (hus.h.!.+ hus.h.!.+ Lord love er face!) Tha pit-hawl had at Milemas, when Tha put me in theaze pooat-hawl place.

Tha za I'm maz'd.--I veel--I thenk--- I tak--I ate, an oten drenk.-- Tha _thenk_, a-ma-be, zumtimes, _peel_-- An gee me stra vor bed an peel!

Tha za I'm maz'd.--Hus.h.!.+ Babby, dear!

Tha shan't come to er!--niver fear!

Tha za thy Father's dead!--Naw, naw!

A'll niver die while I'm belaw.

Tha za I'm maz'd.--Why dwont you speak?

Fie James!--or else my hort ool break!-- James _is_ not dead! nor Babby!--naw!

Tha'll niver die while I'm belaw!

REMEMBRANCE.

An shall I drap tha Reed--an shall I, Athout one nawte about my SALLY?

Althaw we Pawets all be zingers, We like, wi' enk, ta dye our vingers; Bit mooast we like in vess ta pruv That we remimber those we love.