The Northern Cobbler

WAAIT till our Sally cooms in, fur thou mun a' sights to tell.
Eh, but I be maain glad to seea tha sa 'arty an' well.
'Cast awaay on a disolut land wi' a vartical soon!'
Strange fur to goa fur to think what saailors a' seean an' a' doon;
'Summat to drink—sa' 'ot?' I 'a nowt but Adam's wine:
What's the 'eat o' this little 'ill-side to the 'eat o' the line?

'What's i' tha bottle a stanning theer?'
I'll tell tha. Gin.
But if thou wants thy grog, tha mun goa fur it down to the inn.
Naay—fur I be maain-glad, but thaw tha was iver sa dry,
Thou gits naw gin fro' the bottle theer, an' I'll tell tha why.

Mea an' thy sister was married, when wur it? back-end o' June,
Ten year sin', and wa 'greed as well as a fiddle i' tune:
I could fettle and clump owd booots and shoes wi' the best on 'em all,
As fer as fro' Thursby thurn hup to
Harmsby and Hutterby Hall.

We was busy as beeas i' the bloom an' as
'appy as 'art could think,
An' then the babby wur burn, and then
I taakes to the drink.

An' I weant gaainsaay it, my lad, thaw I be hafe shaamed on it now,
We could sing a good song at the Plow, we could sing a good song at the Plow;
Thaw once of a frosty night I slither'd an' hurted my huck,
An' I coom'd neck-an-crop soomtimes slaape down i' the squad an' the muck:
An' once I fowl wi' the Taailor—not hafe ov a man, my lad—
Fur he scrawm'd an' scratted my faace like a cat, an' it maade 'er sa mad
That Sally she turn'd a tongue-banger, -an' raated ma, 'Sottin' thy braains
Guzzlin' an' soakin' an' smoakin' an' hawmin' about i' the laanes,
Soa sow-droonk that tha doesn not touch thy 'at to the Squire;'
An' I loook'd cock-eyed at my noase an'
I seead 'im a-gittin' o' fire;
But sin' I wur hallus i' liquor an' hallus as droonk as a king,
Foalks' coostom flitted awaay like a kite wi' a brokken string.

An' Sally she wesh'd foalks' cloaths to keep the wolf fro' the door,
Eh but the moor she riled me, she druv me to drink the moor,
Fur I fun', when 'er back wur turn'd, wheer Sally's owd stockin' wur 'id,
An' I grabb'd the munny she maade, and
I wear'd it o' liquor, I did.

An' one night I 'cooms 'oam like a bull gotten loose at a faair,
An' she wur a-waaitin' fo'mma, an' cryin' and tearin' 'er 'aair,

An' I tummled athurt the craadle an' swear'd as I'd break ivry stick
O! furnitur 'ere i' the 'ouse, an' I gied our Sally a kick,
An' I mash'd the taables an' chairs, an' she an' the babby beal'd,
Fur I knaw'd naw moor what I did nor a mortal beast o' the feald.

An' when I waaked i' the murnin' I seead that our Sally went laamed
Cos' o' the kick as I gied 'er, an' I wur dreadful ashaamed;
An' Sally wur sloomy an' draggle taail'd in an owd turn gown,
An' the babby's faace wurn't wesh'd an' the 'ole 'ouse hupside down.

An' then I minded our Sally sa pratty an' neat an' sweeat,
Straat as a pole an' clean as a flower fro' 'ead to feeat:
An' then I minded the fust kiss I gied
'er by Thursby thurn;
Theer wur a lark a-singin' 'is best of a Sunday at murn,
Couldn't see 'im, we 'card 'im a-mountin' oop 'igher an' 'igher,
An' then 'e turn'd to the sun, an'' 'e shined like a sparkle o' fire.
'Doesn't tha see 'im,' she axes, 'fur I can see 'im?' an' I
Seead nobbut the smile o' the sun as danced in 'er pratty blue eye;
An' I says 'I mun gie tha a kiss,' an'
Sally says 'Noa, thou meant,'
But I gied 'er a kiss, an' then anoother,
'an' Sally says' doant!'

An' when we coom'd into Meeatin', at fust she wur all in a tew,
But, arter, we sing'd the 'ymn togither like birds on a beugh;
'Sluggish, out of spirits.
An' Muggins 'e preach'd o' Hell-fire an the loov o' God fur men,
An' then upo' coomin' awaay Sally gied me a kiss ov 'ersen.

Heer wur a fall fro' a kiss to a kick like Saatan as fell
Down out o' heaven i' Hell-fire—thaw theer's naw drinkin' i' Hell;
Mea fur to kick our Sally as kep the wolf fro' the door,
All along o' the drink, fur I loov'd 'er as well as afoor.

Sa like a great num-cumpus I blubber'd awaay o' the bed—
'Weant niver do it naw moor; 'an'
Sally loookt up an' she said,
'I'll upowd it I tha weant; thou'rt like the rest o' the men,
Thou'll goa sniffin' about the tap till tha does it agean.
Theer's thy hennemy, man, an' I knaws, as knaws tha sa well,
That, if tha seeas 'im an' smells 'im tha'll foller 'im slick into Hell.'

'Naay,' says I, 'fur I weant goa sniffin' about the tap.'
'Weant tha?' she says, an' mysen I thowt i' mysen 'mayhap.'
'Noa: 'an' I started awaay like a shot, an' down to the Hinn,
An' I browt what tha seeas stannin' theer, yon big black bottle o' gin.

'That caps owt,' says Sally, an' saw she begins to cry,
But I puts it inter 'er 'ands an' I says to
'er, 'Sally,' says I,
'Stan' 'im theer i' the naame o' the Lord an' the power ov 'is Graace,
Stan' 'im theer, fur I'll loook my hennemy strait i' the faace,

Stan' 'im theer i' the winder, an' let ma loook at 'im then,
'E seeams naw moor nor watter, an' Vs the Divil's oan sen.'

An' I wur down i' tha mouth, couldn't do naw work an' all,
Nasty an' snaggy an' shaaky, an' poonch'd my 'and wi' the hawl,
But she wur a power o' coomfut, an' sattled 'ersen o' my knee,
An' coaxd an' coodled me oop till agean
I feel'd mysen free.

An' Sally she tell'd it about, an' foalk stood a-gawmin' in,
As thaw it wur summat bewitch'd istead of a quart o' gin;
An' some on 'em said it wur watter—an'
I wur chousin' the wife,
Fur I couldn't 'owd 'ands off gin, wur it nobbut to saave my life;
An' blacksmith 'e strips me the thick ov
'is airm, an' 'e shaws it to me,
'Feeal thou this! thou can't graw this upo' watter!' says he.
An' Doctor 'e calls o' Sunday an' just as candles was lit,
'Thou meant do it,' he says, 'tha mun break 'im off bit by bit.'
'Thou'rt but a Methody-man,' says Par-son, and laays down 'is 'at,
An' 'e points to the bottle o' gin, but I respecks tha fur that;'
An' Squire, his oan very sen, walks down fro' the 'All to see,
An' 'e spanks 'is 'and into mine, 'fur I respecks tha,' says 'e;
An' coostom agean draw'd in like a wind fro' far an' wide,
And browt me the booots to be cobbled fro' hafe the coontryside.

An' theer 'e stans an' theer 'e shall stan to my dying daay;
'Staring vacantly.
I 'a gotten to loov 'im agean in anoother kind of a waay,
Proud on 'im, like, my lad, an' I keeaps
'im clean an' bright,
Loovs 'im, an' roobs 'im, an' doosts 'im, an' puts 'im back i' the light.

Wouldn't a pint a' sarved as well as a quart? Naw doubt:
But I liked a bigger feller to fight wi' an' fowt it out.
Fine an' meller 'e mun be by this, if I cared to taaste,
But I moant, my lad, and I weant, fur
I'd feal mysen clean disgraaced.

An' once I said to the Missis, 'My lass, when I cooms to die,
Smash the bottle to smithers, the Divil's in 'im,' said I.
But arter I chaanged my mind, an' if
Sally be left aloan,
I'll hev 'im a-buried wi'mma an' taake
'im afoor the Throan.

Coom thou 'eer—yon laady a-steppin along the streeat,
Doesn't tha knaw 'er—sa pratty, an' feat, an' neat, an' sweeat?
Look at the cloaths oner back, thebbe ammost spick-span-new,
An' Tommy's faace be as fresh as a codlin wesh'd i' the dew.

'Ere be our Sally an' Tommy, an' we be a-goin to dine,
Baacon an' taates, an' a beslings pud din' an' Adam's wine;
But if tha wants ony grog tha mun goa fur it down to the Hinn,
Fur I weant shed a drop on 'is blood, noa, not fur Sally's oan kin.