Waivin Mewsic.

Ther's mewsic ith' shuttle, ith' loom, an ith frame,     Ther's melody mingled ith' noise;     For th' active ther's praises, for th' idle ther's blame,     If they'd harken to th' saand of its voice.     An when flaggin a bit, how refreshin to feel     As you pause an look raand on the throng,     At the clank o' the tappet, the hum o' the wheel,     Sing this plain unmistakable song: -     Nick a ting, nock a ting;     Wages keep pocketing;     Workin for little is better nor laikin;     Twist an twine, reel an wind;     Keep a contented mind;     Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin.     To see workin fowk wi a smile o' ther face     As they labour thear day after day;     An hear th' women's voices float sweetly throo th' place,     As they join i' some favorite lay;     It saands amang th' din, as the violet seems     At peeps aght th' green dockens among,     Diffusing a charm ovver th' rest by its means,     Thus it blends i' that steady old song;     Nick a ting, nock a ting,     Wages keep pocketing;     Workin for little is better nor laikin;     Twist an twine, reel an wind,     Keep a contented mind,     Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin.     An then see what lessons are laid out anent us,     As pick after pick follows time after time,     An warns us tho' silent, to let nowt prevent us     From strivin by little endeavours to climb;     Th' world's made o' trifles, its dust forms a mountain,     Then nivver despair as yor trudgin along,     If troubles will come an yor spirits dishearten,     Yo'll find ther's relief i' that steady owd song;     Nick a ting, nock a ting;     Wages keep pocketin;     Workin for little is better nor laikin;     Twist an twine, reel an wind;     Keep a contented mind;     Troubles are oft ov a body's own makin.     Life's warp comes throo Heaven, th' weft's faand bi us sen,     To finish a piece we're compell'd to ha booath;     Th' warp's reight, but if th' weft should be faulty, how then?     Noa waiver ith' world can produce a gooid clooath.     Then let us endeavour by workin an strivin,     To finish awr piece so's noa fault can be fun,     An then i' return for awr pains an contrivin,     Th' takker in 'll reward us and whisper "well done."     Clink a clank, clink a clank,     Workin withaat a thank,     May be awr fortun, if soa nivver mind it,     Strivin to do awr best,     We shall be reight at last,     If we lack comfort now, then shall we find it.