UNKNOWN Little Bet. (A LANCASHIRE BALLAD.)

Waikato Times, Volume XXV, Issue 2060, 19 September 1885, Page 6 (Supplement)

UNKNOWN Little Bet. (A LANCASHIRE BALLAD.)

'Tis a year just to-day, John, we lost little Bet, An' aw oannot help oryin' a bit. For there's raony a time aw feel lonely an 1 fret, When thou'rt gone to thi work at the pit ; An' the sn«w keeps a falling on yon little grave, Till it dce3 seem bo selfish and hard For ua two to bo here, snug i' comfort at home, An' her laid i' that cruel churchyard. Sich a bright, bonny babby as noan nivver seed, Wi her nice little cuddlin' way?, John, if tbou'd been a drinker aw'm suro j ha 1 deo'd For mi love for that hab wur a ciaze ; Them Bnowflakes fall heavy an' cold on my heart, When aw feel that they'ro fallin' on her, Tho' aw know 'at it's foolieh to take it like that, Still aw fret till aw hardly con bear. T'other childer is good uns, but both on 'em's lads, Tho' aw love 'era for that noan the leas, Still aw felt as if Johnny an' Jim wore their dad's, An' that this one were mine to caress ; 'Twur a new eoort o' oare, an' a new eoort o' pride, Were thh bright little cud.ilin' girl, Different cloas to mak', summat gentler to bide, An' sioh nice little ringlets to curl. An' aw reckoned hood grow up a fine, stirrin' lass, One as thou'd ha' been proud on, my lad, An 1 ha' helped me at home, whilo tho lad 3 were at work I' the pit, taLin' Bharo wi their clh.l ; Bu 1 ; it were not to bo, an' aVm Hilly to cry, Though hoo were Bibh a sweet, pretty gem, For them lads is eioh rosy an' healthful young romps Aw must lam to bo grateful for them. Thiuk like that, Mary, lass, weron't aw crazy mypel When yon chilt took the- fever an, died? But aw seed thou were crushed—more than ever thou'd tell, And it browt me still nearer thi side ; Aw wore crazed o'er our Bet— but aw wero frinhtpued for thee, For r»w couldn't lose both, bonny wife, An' when thou took the fever, an' bid fair to dee, How aw worked nw can't think for mi fife. But thoa pulled bravely thiough, an' when th' lads did po bog To oome whoam from their granny's to thro, An' aw seed thy lost look, when thou rnisa'd little Btt, When thorn Jiids ciied, their mammy to see; An' aw know'd thou were cryin', m' lh' ladsi i' thi arms, For the little lass gone to her rest, An' aw bent down an' kiss'd thee, an' bagged thoo be strong For my sake aa' the lads on my breast. Dunuot fret the, my Mary, aw'm steady an' true, An' my heart beatd wi thine i' thy grief, Come sit closer by me, un 1 aw'll Visa them sweet tear*, I'or they blees thy poor heart wi relief ; Tno' tho snowflakes are fallin' on yon littlo grave, WJjoro we laid her a year pineo to-day, Lutle Bjt does not heed thorn, but praya for us both, Where the sun shineo for ever and ayo. Biiandon Thomas, in The Theatre.