One day, reight anenst aor smithy, -
T’other side o’th’ wattergate,
Hung sum cloas :- “Well! said Jone, “si’thi,
Yon’s well-petched, at ony rate.”
(Theer un owd petch’d shirt wur dangling,
Flopping clumsily o’th’ line,)
“Aw shud want yon petches mangling
Daon a bit if yon wur mine.”
“Mending ollus shows a sloven,
Bi th’ big petches cloated o’er,
Wheer it happens to be roven
Summot like a big barn door.
Steod o’ wi’ ther sizzers cutting
Aot wheere’er it’s bad un thin,
Un a gradely bit theer putting,
Just as if ‘twor woven in.”
“But,” said Jone, “naoh, mending’s saving;
Wives ut cannot mend and darn,
Si’thi, lad, ur not worth heving!-
Un ther’s sum tu praod tu larn.
Weel-petche’d things ur noa disgraces;
Poor men’s wives mun darn and mend;
Petches uz just like the plaisters
Ut they call the “Poor Man’s Friend.”
Un o’ wife ut’s good ut stitching,
Keeps owd cloas boath good un smart;
Un o’ lass ut’s ‘shamed o’ petching
Hezent got a gradely haort.
Better, far, than I’ debt running,
Weor o suit of petched cloas,
Better that, than chaps cum dunning,
Poking bills before thi’ nose.”
“Well,” aw said, “Jone, th’art a nailer,
Yet, aw welly think th’art reight:
Better mend than gi’ tu th’ tailor
Brass ut ow’t to goa fur meight.”