EH! Robbut! th’ lan’lord’s bin tu-day,
Whol thaw or deawn at th’class;
He sed ‘twor herd tu mek foak pay,
Bud he mut hev his brass,
An’ aw mut awthur pay ur flit,
An’ which wor t’ wost o’ t’ twon?
Aw’d nowt to pay him, nod a bit,
Su neaw then th’ beddin's goan!
Eawr factory ludge wi’icet is thick,
An’ th’ moors ur whoite wi’ sno’;
Eh! winter’s cumin’ yarra quick,
An; help [cums] nobbud slo’;
Th’ eost woind tu-neet blo’s fearful cowd,
Id gus thru evvry boan;
Heaw mun wu live neaw th’ bedstock’s sowd,
An’ even th’ beddin’s goan?
Si th’ childer cruddled back o’th cheer!
Aw’ve lapt ‘um i’ mi skurt,
Id’s th’oanly won aw hev to weur,
Bud id welly broak mi hert,
When aw feld ‘at evvry bonny lim’
Wor cowder nor a stoan,
An’ aw set [un] ’ croid ‘til mi ee’n wor dim,
O’er th’ beddin hevin’ goan.
I’ a’ mii want, aw’m preaud tu say,
Aw’v never trubbled teawn;
Tho’ aw’v goan i’ nowt fur mony u day
Bud this owd gingum geawn;
Aw’d loike a fresh un, if id leets,
Ur ae’l bi content wi’ noan;
Bud aw shudder ut thowt o’ t’ winter neets
Neaw t’ bit o’ t’ beddins goan.
Aw’m stricken wi mi owd cumplaint,
An’ mony a weary heawr,
Feightin’ fur breoth ‘till sick an’ faint,
I’ this cowd heause aw ceawr;
Aw’m seure th’ koind herts soarly wrung
To heur ma gasp an’ groan,
Bud aw’s nod bi heur tu tew tha lon,
Neaw t’ bit o’ t’ beddin’s goan!