Aye, England, Owd England! I love thee
Wi' a love at each day grows more strong;
In my heart tha sinks deeper an' deeper,
As year after year rolls along;
An' spite o' thy faults an' thy follies,
Whativer thy fortune may be,
I' storm or i' sunshine, i' weal or i' woe,
Tha'll allus be lovely to me.
May thy sons an' thy dowters live happy,
An' niver know t' woes o' distress;
May thy friends be for iver increeasin',
An' thy enemies each day grow less.
May tha niver let selfish ambition
Dishonour or tarnish thy swoord,
But use it alooan agean despots
Whether reignin' at hooam or abrooad.
1. That.
Love and Pie
J. A. Carill
>From Woz'ls Humorous Sketches and Rhymes in the East
Yorkshire Dialect (n. d.).
Whin I gor hoired et Beacon Farm a year last Martinmas,
I fund we'd gor a vory bonny soort o' kitchen lass;
And so I tell'd her plooin' made me hungry--thot was why
I awlus was a laatle sthrong on pudden and on pie.
And efther thot I thowt the pie was, mebbe, middlin' large,
And so I ate it for her sake--theer wasn't onny charge;
Until it seems t' missus asked her rayther sharply why
She awlus used t' biggest dish for pudden and for pie.
I wasn't mich of use, ye knaw, et this here fancy talkin',
She had no chance o' goin' oot for armin' it and walkin'.
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