Peter's Prayer.

His face wor varry thin an pale,     His een wor strangely breet;     His old rags flapt i'th' wintry gale,     An shooless wor his feet.     His teeth they chattered in his heead,     His hands had lost ther use,     He humbly begg'd a bite o' breead,     But nobbut gate abuse.     A curse wor tremblin on his tongue,     But with a mad despair,     He curbed it wi' an effort strong,     An changed it for a prayer.     "Oh, God!" he cried, "spare, - spare aw pray!     Have mercy an forgive;     Befooar too lat, show me some way     My wife an bairns can live!"     "Aw read i'th' papers ivvery day,     Ov hundreds, - thaasands spent     For shot an shell, an things to swell     This nation's armament.     Into fowk's hearts, oh, God! instil     A love ov peace, an then,     Maybe we'st have some better times,     An men can help thersen.     Aw nobbut want a chonce to live,     One cannot wish for less;     Wars fill this world wi' misery, -     Peace gives us happiness.     If monarchs dooant get quite as mich,     Ther joys need not decrease; -     Pray think o'th' poor as weel as th' rich; -     We've but one soul apiece."