To see workin fowk wi’ a smile o’ ther face
As they labor thear day after day;
An’ hear ’th women’s voices float sweetly throo ’th place,
As they join i’ some favorite lay;
It saands amang th’ din, as the violet seems
‘At peeps aght th’ green dockens among,
An’ spreading a charm over th’ rest by its means,
Thus it blends i’ that steady old song;
   Nick a ting, nock a ting;
   Wages keep pocketing;
Workin for little is better nor laiking;
   Twist an’ twine, reel an’ wind;
   Keep a contented mind;
Troubles are oft ov a body’s own making.

An’ then see what lessons are laid out anent us,
As pick after pick follows time after time,
An’ warns us tho’ silent, to let nowt prevent us
From strivin by little endeavours to climb;
Th’ world’s made o’ trifles! its dust forms a mountain! 
Then niver despair as you’re trudgin along;
If troubles will come an’ yor spirits dishearten,
Yo’ll find ther’s relief i’ that steady old song;
   Nick a ting, nock a ting;
   Wages keep pocketing;
Working for little is better nor laiking;
   Twist an’ twine, reel an’ wind;
   Keep a contented mind;
Troubles are oft ov a body’s own making.

Life’s warp comes throo Heaven, th’ weft’s fun bi us sen;
To finish a piece we’re compell’d to ha booath. 
Th’ warp’s reight, but if th’ weft should be faulty—­ha then? 
Noa wayver i’ th’ world can produce a gooid clooath;
Then let us endeavour, bi working and striving,
To finish awr piece soa’s noa fault can be fun;
An’ then i’ return for awr pains an contriving,
Th’ takker in ‘ll reward us an’ whisper’ well done.’ 
   Clink a clank, clink a clank,
   Workin withaat a thank,
May be awr fortun—­if soa never mind it! 
   Striving to do awr best,
   We shall be reight at last,
If we lack comfort nah, then shall we find it.

That’s a Fact

A’a Mary aw’m glad ’at that’s thee! 
Aw need thy advice, lass, aw’m sure;
Aw’m all ov a mooild tha can see,
Aw wor never i’ this way afoor,
Aw’ve net slept a wink all th’ neet throo;
Aw’ve been twirling abaght like a worm,
An’ th’ blankets gate felter’d, lass, too—­
Tha niver saw cloas i’ sich form. 
Aw’ll tell thee what ’t all wor abaght—­
But promise tha’ll keep it reight squat,
For aw wodn’t for th’ world let it aght;
But aw can’t keep it in—­tha knows that. 
We’d a meetin at the schooil yesterneet,
An’ Jimmy wor thear,—­tha’s seen Jim? 
An’ he hutch’d cloise to me in a bit,
To ax me for th’ number o’th’ hymn;
Aw thowt ’t wor a gaumless trick,
For he heeard it geen aght th’ same as me;
An’ he just did th’ same thing tother wick,—­
It made fowk tak noatice, dos’t see. 
An’ when aw wor gooin towards hooam
Aw heeard som’dy comin behund: 
‘Twor pitch dark, an’ aw thowt if they