Disapointment. (Prose)

A poem by John Hartley

"Blessed are they who expect nothing, for they shall net be disappointed."

Aw once knew a chap they called old Sammy; he used ta gaa wi a donkey, an th' mooast remarkable things abaat him wor his clogs an' his rags. Sammy had niver been wed, tho' he war fifty years old, but it wor allus believed he'd managed ta save a bit a' brass. One day he war gain up Hepenstull Bunk, Jenny o' Jooans a' th' Long Lover wor goin up befoor him, an' whether it wor at her clogs were made a' his favrite pattern, or her ancles had summat abaat 'em different to what he'd iver seen befoor, aw cannot tell, but it seems a feelin coom ovver him all at once, sich as he'd niver had befoor, an' when he'd managed ta overtak her, he sed, "It's loaning for heeat aw think, Jenny." "Eea, aw think its likely for bein wut," shoo sed. "Awve just been thinkin," sed Sammy, "at if I wornt na a single old chap, aw shouldn't have to trail up an' daan in a lot a' rags like thease, for awm sure this jacket has hardly strength to hing o' mi rig, an' mi britches are soa full o' hoils wol awm feeared sometimes when awm puttin em on, at awst tummel throo an braik my neck." "Well, reight enuff, a woife's varry useful at times," shoo sed, "but as tha hasn't one if tha'll learn mi thi jacket, aw'll see if it cannot be mended far thi a bit." "Aw allus thowt tha war a gooid sooart, Jenny, an' awl tak thi at thi word," he sed: so he pool'd off his coit an gave it her an' it were arranged 'at he should call for it next neet. You may bet yor life he didn't forget, an when he saw it mended up, an' brushed wol it luk'd ommost as gooid as new, he luk'd first at it an then at her, an at last he sed, "Aw think we should be able to get on varry weel together, what says ta?" Aw dooant know what shoo sed, but it wornt long befoor they wor wed, for Sammy thowt shoo'd be worth her mait if it wor nobbut for mendin up his old duds. They hadn't been wed long, when he axed her to mend his britches. - "A'a," shoo sed, "Aw cannot mend em, aw niver could sew i' mi life!" "Why that is a tale," he sed, "tha mended mi jacket all reight!" "Nay, indeed aw nawther! - Aw mended nooon on it! Aw sent it to th' tailor an paid for it doin." "Then awm dropt on," sed Sammy, "for aw expected tha'd be able to do all sich like wark." "Tha should niver expect owt an' then tha willnt get dropt on," shoo sed. - "That, wor a bit o' varry gooid advice.

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