Tho' the sober shake the head,

And drink water, boys, instead,

And the foolish all strong liquors do decry;

Yet the foaming glass for me,

May we never, never see

A friend without a draught when dry.

Then quaff, boys, quaff, and let's be merry;

Why should dull care be crowned a king?

Let us have another drain, till the night begins to wane,

And the bonny, bonny morn peeps in.

Let us drown each selfish soul

Deep in the flowing bowl;

Let the rosy god of wine take the throne;

And he who cannot boast

Some good humour in his toast,

Let him wander in the world alone.

Then quaff, boys, &c.

O, I love a jolly face,

And I love a pretty lass,

And I love to see the young and old around;

Then with frolic and with fun

Let both wine and moments run,

And the hearty, hearty laugh resound.

Then quaff, boys, &c.

When man was placed on earth

He was naked at his birth,

But God a robe of reason round him threw;

First he learned to blow his nose,

Then he learned to make his clothes,

And then he learned to bake and brew.

Then, quaff, boys, &c.

If it's wrong to press the vine—

Thus to make the rosy wine,

Then it must be wrong to crush the wheaten grain;

But we'll laugh such things to scorn,

And although it's coming morn,

Just join me in another drain.

Then quaff, boys, &c.

'E'e gow, lad! that's a rare song. Aw'll say nowt noa moor abaat thy nooas after that, but tha munnot sing that amang teetotallers. It's thy call nah, let's keep it movin, call for who or what tha likes.'

'Well, if awm to call, aw shall call th' landlord to fill this pitcher, for this pipe o' mine's varry dry.'

'All reight, lad, order it to be filled, aw'll pay for it, an wol they're fotchin it call o' somdy for a song or summat.'

'Well, aw call o'th' cheerman for a song.'

'Nay, lad, tha munnot call o' me, for if awd to start ony mak ov mewsic aw should niver get throo it.'

'Yo went throo th' drum easy enuff,' said one.

'Eea, an' he brag'd he could sing better ner awr conductor,' sed another.

'Nah chaps, aw'll do my best to mak it a pleasant neet, an' as th' ale has just come up aw'll give yo a tooast an' a sentiment booath i' one.'

Hold up yer heads, tho' at poor workin men

Simple rich ens may laff an' may scorn;

May be they ne'er haddled ther riches thersen,

Somdy else lived afoor they wor born,

As noble a heart may be fun in a man

'At's a poor fusten coit for his best,

An 'at knows he mun work or else he mun clam,

As yo'll find i' one mich better drest.

Soa, here's to all th' workers wheariver they be,

I'th' land, or i'th' loom, or i'th' saddle;

And the dule tak all them 'at wod mak us less free,

Or rob us o'th' wages we haddle.

'Them's just my sentiment,' sed one o'th' singers, 'an' aw dooant care who hears me say it, for aw dooant care whether a chap's coit is aght o'th' elbows or his britches knees brussen, noa matter if he's——'

'Thee shut up,' sed Seth, 'it's my call next, an' aw want thee to know, owd fiddle-face, 'at tha can give ovver talking abaat fowks clooas, an' sing as sooin an tha likes.'

'Mr. Cheerman, aw nobbut know one, but as sooin as aw've supt aw'll start, shove th' ale this rooad.'

'Get supt then, it taks more bother to start thee singin nor what it taks to start th' Dyke Engin.'

All kinds of songs I've heard folks sing,

Of things in every nation;

Of Queen's Road swells, and Clarehall belles,

And every new sensation.

But I've a song you never heard,

Although the music's ancient;

It's all about one Doctor Bird,

And his fascinating patient.

So list to me

And I'll tell you all the story of this Doctor B.

One day he sat within his room,

By draughts and pills surrounded;

Strange pictures hanging on the walls

Which timid folks confounded.

He heard the bell, and strange to tell,

He quickly changed his manner,

And in there came his bosom's flame

His darling Mary Hannah.

So list to me, &c.

'Sweet Mary Hannah!' 'Doctor dear'—

Such was their salutation;

'I've come,' sed she, 'for much I fear,

I've got the palpitation.'

'O never mind,' says Doctor B.,

'You need not long endure it;

Just come a little nearer me,

I fancy I can cure it.'

But list to me, &c.

He took a loving, long embrace,

Cries she, 'Oh, dear, that's shocking!'

When the doctor's boy, to mar their joy,

Just entered without knocking.

And when he saw the state o' things,

Then down the stairs he hurried,

And ran to tell the Doctor's wife,—

For Doctor B. was married.

So list to me, &c.

The Doctor seized his hat and cane,

And cried, 'Dear Mary, hook it!'

Then down he ran, and found a cab,

And in an instant took it—

'Drive for your life and fetch my wife,

And need no second telling!'

And in a very little time

They reached the Doctor's dwelling.

So list to me, &c.

His wife was there, said he, 'My dear

Come with me to the city,

I'm lonely when you are not near,'

Says she, 'Why that's a pity.'

He took her to the self same room,

And in the self same manner;

He kissed and coaxed his lawful wife,

As he'd just kissed Mary Hannah.

So list to me, &c.

In loving talk some time they spent,

Says she, 'now I'll go shopping;'

He kissed her and as out she went,

The Doctor's boy came hopping;

He saw her and he quickly cried,

'O, please excuse me missus,

But Doctor's got a girl inside,

And he's smothering her with kisses.

So list to me, &c.

'You little sneaking cur,' she cried,

'That shows that you've been peeping.'

She boxed his ears from side to side

And quickly sent him weeping.

The Doctor rubbed his hands and smiled,

To think how well he'd plan'd it,

And Mrs. B.'s quite reconciled,

But the boy don't understand it.

So you all see

What a very cunning fellow was this Doctor B.

Now all you married men so gay,

Just listen to my moral;

Indulge your wives in every way,

And thus avoid a quarrel.

Pray do your best to settle down,

Nor with the fair ones frisk it;

You might not fare like Doctor B.,

It isn't safe to risk it.

For you can see

How very near in trouble was this Doctor B.

'Is that th' only song tha knows young man?'

'That's all aw know, Mr. Cheerman.'

'Why, tak my advice an' forget it as sooin as tha can, for aw niver heeard a war, an' see if tha cannot find a better. Nah tha can call for th' next.'

'Well, aw'll call o' owd Miles, an' if he con do ony better aw'll pay for th' next gallon.'

Old Miles stood up, an' crossed his hands i' front an turned up his een as if he wor gooin to relate his experience at a prayer-meetin, an' began:

They may talk of pure love but its fleeting at best;

Let them ridicule gold if they will;

But money's the thing that has long stood the test,

And is longed for and sought after still.

Love must kick the balance against a full purse,

And you'll find if you live to four score,

That whativer your troubles the heaviest curse,

Is to drag on your life and be poor.

If you sigh after titles and long for high rank,

Let this be your aim night and day,

To increase the small balance you have at your bank,

And to honors' 't will soon point the way.

For you'll find that men bow to the glittering dross,

Whate'er its possessor may be;

And if obstacles rise they will help you across,

If you only can boast £. s. d.

See that poor man in rags, bending under his load,

He passes unnoticed along:

No one lends him a hand as he goes on his road,

He must toil as he can through the throng.

But if he was wealthy, how many would fly

To assist him and offer the hand;

But he's poor, so they leave him to toil or to die,

That's the rule in this Christian land.

'Nah, that's summat like a song; aw could lizzen to that all th' neet, an' aw think yo'll all agree 'at owd fiddle face has lost his gallon. Nah, lad, does ta hear? Tak to payin.'

But he didn't hear, for he'd quietly slipped away an' left 'em wi' a empty pitcher. 'Well, he's a mean owd stick, onyway; but aw'll pay for it fillin once moor. An' nah, Miles, it's yor turn to call.'

'Mr. Cheerman, aw'll call o' yor friend for th' next.'

'A'a, lad,' sed Dick, 'tha should pass by me, for aw niver sang a song i' mi life, an' awm to old to start, but if yo've noa objections aw'll give yo a recitation.'

'Gooid lad, Dick, goa on! Tha'rt gam, aw know.'

Ov all th' enjoyments' at sweeten man's life,

Ther's nooan can come up to a sweet tempered wife;

An' he must be lonesome, an' have little pleasure,

'At doesn't possess sich a woman to treasure.

But them 'at expect when they tak hooam a bride,

'At nowt nobbut sunshine wi' them will abide,

An' think 'at noa sorrow will iver oppress,

They'll find ther mistak aght, yo'll easily guess.

For th' mooast fascinatin an' lovable elves,

Are all on 'em mortal, just th' same as ussels,

An' show tempers 'at sometimes are net ovver pleasant,

They find fault whear ther's room, an' sometimes whear ther isn't,

An' to get there own way, why they'll kiss, coax, or cavil,

They'll smile like an angel, or storm like the devil.

But aw've monny times sed, an' aw say it ageean,

'At women are ofter i'th' reight nor are th' men,

Just fancy gooin hooam to a bachelor's bed,

All shudderin an' shakkin yo lig daan yor heead.

There's a summat a wantin, 'at fills yo wi' fear,

Yo can turn as yo like, but you find it's not thear,

An' yo freeat an' yo fitter, or weep like a willow;

An' for want o' owt better, mak love to a pillow.

But him 'at's been blessed wi' a wife he can love,

Liggs his heead on her breast pure as snow from above,

An' ther's nubdy could buy it for silver or gold,

An' he wodn't exchange it for Abrahams of old.

An' he falls hard asleep, wi' her arm raand his neck,

An' gets up lik a lark, an' then works like a brick.

'Nah, friends, aw wish to say a few words befoor aw goa. Awm varry sorry 'at aw brack that drum, but yo see it wor an accident, an' aw've done my best to mak it up, an' as Dick's recitation maks me think awd better be gettin hooam, or aw shall happen find it varry warm when aw get thear. Aw'll nobbut call o' one moor befoor sayin gooid neet, an' that's Mose Hart. If he's hear aw should like him to try agean; ther's nowt like perseverance, an' if a chap fails twelve times th' thirteenth may pay for all.'

'Mr. Cheerman, Mozart wor deead long befoor yo wor born or thowt on.'

'Then that chap 'at dug his elbow into my guts tell'd me a lie, for he sed he'd just made a mess for th' twelfth time when aw come in.'

Ther wor a crack o' laffin when he sed that, for th' chaps saw his mistak, an' soa one on 'em went quietly up to him an' explained it. 'O, then,' he sed, 'if he's deead we may as weel goa hooam, an' all aw've getten to say is 'at ony time yo chonce to come by awr haase, just luk in an' aw'll mak yo welcome, an' my owd lass'll mak yo a mess o' some sooart 'at'll do yo some gooid. Yo'll find it easy, for aw live th' next door to th' Pig an' Whistle, an' soa aw wish yo all a varry gooid neet—Come on Dick.'

Th' Hoil-i'th'-Hill Statty.

CHAPTER I.

Th' Hoil-i'th'-Hill Fowld wor a quiet little place; ther wor sixteen haases altogether, four on each side ov a big square yard, an' a pump i'th' middle. Th' fowk 'at lived thear had mooast on 'em been born thear, an' ther'd been soa monny weddin's amang 'em wol they wor all summat moor or less akin. Niver i'th' memory o'th' oldest on 'em had ther been ony change i'th' fowld, except nah an' then a bit o' fresh paint wor put on th' doors an' winders, until one day th' landlord coom and browt two or three smart lukkin chaps' at begun to messure hear an' thear, an' all th' wimmen an' th' childer watched' em wi' as mich anxiety as if they wor gooin to pool all th' haases daan.

Th' chaps wor all off at ther wark, but when they coom hooam at neet they wor sooin made acquainted wi' all 'at had gooan on, an' when they'd getten ther drinkins, one after another walked aght, wol they wor all met together raand th' pump.

'What does ta mak on it, Jacob?' sed one o'th' younger end, spaikin to an owd man wi' a grey heead. 'What does ta think they meean to do?'

'Nay aw connot tell, unless it's some o' them wrang-heeaded fowk 'at th' maister wor tawkin abaat, 'at want to start a schooil booard or some new-fangled noation.'

'Why, what mak o' schooils is them schooil board consarns?'

'Aw dooant know, nobbut it's a schooil whear yo send childer to leearn ther letters, an' they booard 'em at same time.'

'Why, that's nooan a bad thing if they give 'em owt daycent to ait.'

'Does ta think they'll have owt at we shalln't have to pay for? Did ta iver know th' Corporation give owt for nowt? All aw wish is 'at they'd let us alooan. We've getten on here for aboon fifty year withaat ony o' ther bother, an' aw could like to finish my bit o' time aght as we are.'

They all agreed wi' this, an th' wimmen 'at had gethered raand to harken sed they thowt soa too, an' it ud seem 'em better if they'd luk after ther own wives an' childer a bit moor, and net come botherin thear.

When th' bacca wor done, they went back into ther haases, one bi one, an' went to bed, but ther wor a sooart ov a claad hung ovver 'em all, and they didn't sleep varry weel.

Next mornin, as they started off for th' day, they each gave a luk raand, as if to fix iverything i' ther mind, for fear when they coom back they'd niver be able to own th' spot.

Sooin after they'd gooan, a lot o' navvies coom an' started o' diggin. Wor'nt th' wimmin aght in a crack! 'What are yo baan to do?' they sed.

'We're gooin to put yo all watter in,' sed th' gaffer, 'soas yo can do withaat this pump.'

'We dooant want ony watter puttin in; when we want watter we can fotch it,—goa abaat yor business!'

But he tell'd 'em they'd getten orders to do it, an th' landlord had agreed, soa they went on wi ther wark.

Nah, th' chap 'at had takken this job to do, hadn't takken it bi th' day; he'd agreed to do it for soa mich, soa yo may bet he kept' em all at it, an' it tuk varry little time to dig an' get th' pipes laid; an' then th' plumbers wor waitin to start, an' iverybody wor as thrang as if ther lives depended on it bein finished that day,—an' it wor finished,—an' as sooin as it wor done they set to wark an' pool'd daan th' owd pump, an' laid some flags ovver th' well, an' went hooam.

Th' wimmin didn't know whether to be pleased wi' th' new taps or mad abaat th' loss o'th' pump, an' soa they sed nowt until ther fellies coom back. It worn't monny minits afoor they began to coom hooam, an' as sooin as they saw th' pump ligged o'th' graand an' th' well covered up, they luk'd like—weel, it's noa use me tryin to tell what they luk'd like, for they luk'd so monny different ways 'at aw should be fast amang it; but ther worn't one on 'em suited, an' net one 'em had patience to luk at th' new taps.

Owd Jacob spit his teah aght ov his maath as sooin as he tasted it. 'Aw knew ha it ud be,' he sed, 'if iver we lost that pump.'

'Why, what's th' matter?' sed his dowter.

'Matter! connot ta taste th' difference between that watter an' th' watter tha used to get aght o'th' pump?'

'Why, father,' shoo sed, 'that is pump watter, for aw pump'd it mysen befoor they pool'd it daan.'

'Oh, did ta. It wor happen a bit o' bacca aw had i' mi maath. But allus bear this i' mind, if iver tha gets wed an' should leave this fowld niver go to live whear ther isn't a pump.'

After th' drinkin all th' chaps could be seen standin i'th' door hoils, leeanin agean th' jawm, for they felt lost, an' didn't know whear to goa. They'd allus been i'th' habit o' getherin raand th' owd pump, an' it seemed nah as if they couldn't tell whear to stand for th' pump had acted as cheerman for' em when they had ther argyfyin meetins,—an' a varry gooid cheerman too.

At last one on 'em screwed up courage to goa an' luk at th' owd pump case as it ligged i'th' muk, an' then one an' another joined him, wol it luk'd for all th' world as if they wor holdin an inquest.

'That's been a gooid friend to us all,' sed Jacob, 'an' aw dooant like to see it liggin thear.'

'Noa, moor do aw,' sed another, 'an' it luks a sooart o' desolate, sin they tuk th' guts aght.'

'Aw wish somdy'd tak their guts aght,' sed Levi, 'it ud sarve 'em reight. But what mun we do wi' it! Th' fowld luks lost withaat it. Suppooas we put it up agean just to luk at?'

'Aw propooas we bury it,' sed Jacob, 'an' then raise a monement ovver it. It desarves one better nor lots 'at get 'em. It wor allus sober, an' minded its own business, an' niver refused to give owt it had if yo shook it bi th' hand.'

'Well, but whear mun we bury it?' sed Jonas.

'Aw think,' sed Jacob, ''at as it's had a wattery life, it owt to have a wattery grave. Let's pool them flags up an' drop it into th' well.'

They all agreed to this, soa it worn't monny minits befoor they had th' well oppened, an' wor ready to drop it in, but one o'th' women happened to ax 'who wor gooin to read ovver it.' Nah this had n ver struck nooan on' em befoor, an' they saw at once 'at it should be attended to.

'Whear's Elkanah?' sed Jacob. 'He's allus ready wi' a speech, let's see what he can find to say.' Soa one on 'em whistled, an' Elkanah coom, an' they tell'd him what they wanted.

'All reight,' he sed, 'but if yor baan to bury it like that aw think ther owt to be a burryin drinkin.'

'That's reight, Kana!' shaated th' wimmin, 'let's have it reight if we have it at all.'

'That's my noation,' sed Elkanah, 'an aw'll see what aw con collect befoor we bury it,—aw'll be a shillin.'

'Soa will aw,' 'soa will aw,' 'aw'll be another,' an ther wor sooin thirteen shillin an' sixpence sam'd up. 'Nah, awm ready,' he sed, 'tak off yor hats, an' handle it gently for its rayther rotten.' They all did as they wor tell'd, an' havin getten ready Elkanah spake,—