Willie's Weddin.

A'a, Willie, lad, aw'm fain to hear     Tha's won a wife at last;     Tha'll have a happier time next year,     Nor what tha's had i'th' past.     If owt can lend this life a charm,     Or mak existence sweet,     It is a lovin woman's arm     Curled raand yor neck at neet.     An if shoo's net an angel,     Dooant grummel an find fault,     For eearth-born angels, lad, tha'll find     Are seldom worth ther salt.     They're far too apt to flee away,     To spreead ther bonny wings;     They'd nivver think o'th' weshin day     Nor th' duties wifehood brings.     A wife should be a woman,     An if tha's lucky been;     Tha'il find a honest Yorksher lass,     Is equal to a Queen.     For if her heart is true to thee,     An thine to her proves true, -     Tha's won th' best prize 'at's under th' skies,     An tha need nivver rue.     Tha'll have to bite thi lip sometimes,     When mooar inclined to sware;     But recollect, no precious things     Bring joy unmixed wi' care.     An when her snarlin turns to smiles,     An bitterness to bliss,     Tha'll yield fresh homage to her wiles,     An mak up wi' a kiss.     Tha'll happen think 'at shoo's a fooil,     An thy superior wit     Will allus win, an keepin cooil     Tha'll triumph in a bit.     Shoo's happen thinkin th' same o' thee     An holds thi in Love's tether,     Well, nivver heed, - they best agree     When two fooils mate together.