The Carrier

"Owd John's got past his work," said they,     Last week as ever was -- "don't pay     To send by him. He's stoopid, too,     And brings things what won't never do.     We'll send by post, he is that slow.     And that owd hoss of his can't go."     But 'smornin', well, 'twas fun to see     The gentlefolks run after we.     Squire's lady stopped I in the lane,     "Oh," says she, "goin' to town again?     You'll not mind calling into Bings     To fetch my cakes and buns and things?     I've got a party comin' on,     And nought to eat . . . so, DO 'ee, John."     Then, up the street, who should I see,     But old Mam Bessant hail'n' me.     And Doctor's wife, and Mrs. Higgs     Was wantin' vittles for their pigs,     And would I bring some? (Well, what nex'?)     And Granny Dunn has broke her specs,     And wants 'em mended up in town,     So would John call and bring 'em down     To-night . . . ? and so the tale goes on,     'Tis, "Sure you will, now DO 'ee, John."     Well, 'tis a hevil wind that blows     Nobody any good; it shows     As owd John haves his uses yet,     Though now and then he do forget.     Gee up, owd gal. When strikes is on,     They're glad of pore owd stoopid John.