Mi Bonny Yorksher Lass.

A poem by John Hartley

Aw've travelled East, West, North, an South,
An led a rooamin' life;
Aw've met wi things ov stirlin' worth,
Aw've shared wi joy an strife;
Aw've kept a gooid stiff upper lip,
Whativver's come to pass:
But th' captain of mi Fortun's ship,
Has been mi Yorksher Lass.

Storm-tossed, sails rent, an reckonin' lost,
A toy for wind an wave;
Mid blindin' fog an snow an frost,
Aw've thowt noa power could save;
But ivver in the darkest day,
Wi muscles strong as brass,
To some safe port shoo's led the way, -
Mi honest Yorksher Lass.

Shoo's fair, - all Yorksher lasses are, -
Shoo's bonny as the rest,
Her brow ne'er shows a line o' care,
Shoo thinks what is, is best.
Shoo's lovin', true, an full o' pluck,
An it seems as clear as glass,
'At th' lad is sewer to meet gooid luck
'At weds a Yorksher Lass.

Ther's oriental beauties, an'
Grand fowk ov ivvery grade,
But when it comes to honest worth,
Shoo puts 'em all ith' shade,
For wi her charms an virtues,
Shoo stands at top o'th' class;
Ther's nooan soa rare as can compare,
Wi a bonny Yorksher Lass,

Then here's to th' Yorksher lasses!
Whearivver they may be;
Ther worth ther's nooan surpasses,
An ther's nooan as brave an free!
If awd to live life o'er ageean,
Awd think misen an ass,
If aw didn't tak for company,
A bonny Yorksher lass.

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