Stir thi Lass!

A poem by John Hartley

Come lassie be stirrin, for th' lark's up ith' lift,
An th' dew drops are hastin away;
An th' mist oth' hillside is beginnin to shift,
An th' flaars have all wakkened for th' day.
Tha promised to meet me beside this thorn tree,
An darlin, thi sweet face awm langing to see;
When tha arn't here ther's noa beauty for me;
Soa stir thi lass, stir thi,
Or else awst come for thi,
For tha knows what tha tell'd me last neet tha wod be.

Come lassie be stirrin, awm here all alooan;
Tha'rt sewerly net slumb'rin still;
Th' lark's finished his tune an th' dewdrops have gooan,
An th' mist's rolled away ovver th' hill.
Net a wink have aw slept sin aw left thee last neet,
Lukkin forrad to th' time when tha sed we should meet;
But it's past, an mi sweetheart is still aght oth' seet;
But its cappin, lass, cappin,
'At tha should be nappin,
When tha knows what tha promised at th' end o' awr street.

Awm weary o' waitin, aw'll off to mi wark,
Awst be bated a quarter, - that's flat; -
If tha's nobbut been fooilin me just for a lark,
Tha may find thi mistak when to lat.
Aw wanted to mak thi mi wife, for aw thowt,
Tha'd prove thisen just sich a mate as aw sowt;
But it seems tha'rt a false-hearted, young gooid-for-nowt!
But aw see thi, lass, see thi!
God bless thi! forgie me!
For tha'rt truer an fairer an dearer nor owt.

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