Plenty o' Brass.

A poem by John Hartley

A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass!
It's grand to be able to spend
A trifle sometimes on a glass
For yorsen, or sometimes for a friend.
To be able to bury yor neive
Up to th' shackle i' silver an' gowd,
An, 'baght pinchin, be able to save
A wee bit for th' time when yo're owd.

A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass!
To be able to set daan yor fooit
Withaat ivver thinkin - bi'th' mass!
'At yo're wearin' soa much off yor booit.
To be able to walk along th' street,
An stand at shop windows to stare,
An net ha to beat a retreat
If yo scent a "bum bailey" i'th' air.

A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass!
To be able to goa hooam at neet,
An sit i'th' arm-cheer bi'th' owd lass,
An want nawther foir nor leet.

To tak th' childer a paper o' spice,
Or a pictur' to hing up o' th' wall;
Or a taste ov a summat 'at's nice
For yor friends, if they happen to call.

A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass!
Then th' parsons'll know where yo live;
If yo're poor, it's mooast likely they'll pass,
An call where fowk's summat to give.
Yo may have a trifle o' sense,
An yo may be booath upright an trew,
But that's nowt, if yo can't stand th' expense
Ov a whole or a pairt ov a pew.

A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' brass!
An to them fowk 'at's getten a hooard,
This world seems as smooth as a glass,
An ther's flaars o' booath sides o'th' rooad;
But him 'at's as poor as a maase,
Or, happen, a little i' debt,
He mun point his nooas up to th' big haase,
An be thankful for what he can get.

A'a! it's grand to ha plenty o' chink!
But dooan't let it harden yor heart:
Yo 'at's blessed wi' abundance should think
An try to do gooid wi' a part!
An then, as yo're totterin' daan,
An th' last grains o' sand are i'th glass,
Yo may find 'at yo've purchased a craan
Wi' makkin gooid use o' yor brass.

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