What Is It?

A poem by John Hartley

What is it maks a crusty wife
Forget to scold, an leeave off strife?
What is it smoothes th' rooad throo life?
It's sooap.

What is it maks a gaumless muff
Grow rich, an roll i' lots o' stuff,
Woll better men can't get enough?
It's sooap.

What is it, if it worn't theear,
Wod mak some fowks feel varry queer,
An put em i' ther proper sphere?
It's sooap.

What is it maks fowk wade throo th' snow,
To goa to th' church, becoss they know
'At th' squire's at hooam an sure to goa?
It's sooap.

What is it gains fowk invitations,
Throo them at live i' lofty stations?
What is it wins mooast situations?
It's sooap.

What is it men say they detest,
Yet allus like that chap the best
'At gives em twice as mich as th' rest?
It's sooap.

What is it, when the devil sends
His agents raand to work his ends,
What is it gains him lots o' friends?
It's sooap.

What is it we should mooast despise,
An by its help refuse to rise,
Tho' poverty's befoor awr eyes?
It's sooap.

What is it, when life's wasting fast,
When all this world's desires are past,
Will prove noa use to us at last?
It's sooap.

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