Summer: Readen Ov a Head-Stwone
As I wer readen ov a stwone
In Grenley church-yard all alwone,
A little maid ran up, wi’ pride
To zee me there, an’ push’d a-zide
A bunch o’ bennets that did hide
A verse her father, as she zaid,
Put up above her mother’s head,
To tell how much he loved her:
The verse wer short, but very good,
I stood an’ larn’d en where I stood:—
“Mid God, dear Meaery, gi’e me greaece
To vind, lik’ thee, a better pleaece,
Where I woonce mwore mid zee thy feaece;
An’ bring thy childern up to know
His word, that they mid come an’ show
Thy soul how much I lov’d thee.”
“Where’s father, then,” I zaid, “my chile?”
“Dead too,” she answer’d wi’ a smile;
“An’ I an’ brother Jim do bide
At Betty White’s, o’ tother zide
O’ road.” “Mid He, my chile,” I cried,
“That’s father to the fatherless,
Become thy father now, an’ bless,
An’ keep, an’ leaed, an’ love thee.”
Though she’ve a-lost, I thought, so much,
Still He don’t let the thoughts o’t touch
Her litsome heart by day or night;
An’ zoo, if we could teaeke it right,
Do show He’ll meaeke his burdens light
To weaker souls, an’ that his smile
Is sweet upon a harmless chile,
When they be dead that lov’d it.
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