made me feel sorrowful, an aw cannot give ovver freatin.

For aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha' been,
If awd goan to that place, where ther's noa moor cares,nor partin', nor sorrow,
For aw know shoo's thear, or that dream aw sud nivver ha' seen,
But aw'll try to be patient, an' maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow.

It's forty' long summers an' winters, sin tha bade "gooid bye,"
An' as fine a young fella tha wor, as iver aw met i' mi life;
When tha went to some far away land, thi fortune to try,
An' aw stopt at hooam to toil on, becoss it wor th' wish o' my wife.

An' shoo wor a bonny young wench, an' better nor bonny,—
Aw seem nah as if aw can see her, wi' th' first little bairn on her knee,
An' we called it Ann, for aw liked that name best ov ony,
An' fowk said it wor th' pictur o' th' mother, wi' just a strinklin o' me.

An' th' next wor a lad, an' th' next wor a lad! then a lass came,—
That made us caant six,—an' six happier fowk niver sat to a meal,
An' they grew like hop plants—full o' life—but waikly i' th' frame,
An' at last one drooped, an' Deeath coom an' marked her with his seal.

A year or two moor an' another seemed longin to goa,
An' all we could do wor to smooth his deeath bed, 'at he might sleep sweeter—
Then th' third seemed to sicken an' pine, an' we couldn't say "noa,"
For he said his sister had called, an' he wor most anxious to meet her—

An' how we watched th' youngest, noa mortal can tell but misen,
For we prized it moor, becoss it wor th' only one left us to cherish;
At last her call came, an' shoo luked sich a luk at us then,
Which aw ne'er shall forget, tho mi mem'ry ov all other things perish.

A few years moor, when awr griefs wor beginnin to lighten,
Mi friends began askin my wife, if shoo felt hersen hearty an' strong?
An' aw niver saw at her face wor beginning to whiten,
Till sho grew like a shadow, an' aw couldn't even guess wrong.

Then aw stood beside th' grave when th' saxton wor shovin in th' gravel,
An' he said "this last maks five, an' aw think ther's just room for another,"
An' aw went an' left him, lonely an' heartsick to travel,
Till th' time comes when aw may lig daan beside them four bairns an' ther mother.

An' aw think what a glorious Christmas day 'twod ha been
If aw'd gooan to that place where ther's noa moor cares, nor partin, nor sorrow;
An aw knaw they're thear, or that dream aw should niver ha seen,
But aw'll try to be patient, an' maybe shoo'll come fotch me to-morrow.