The Bachelor

Behold him issuin’ fra yon den,

In his owd filthy garment ;

Despised of women, shunn’d by men,

A prey to fleeas and varmint.

For weeks he ne’er hes wesh’d his faace,

His haar he ne’er puts comb in ;

Wi’ dogged looks fra plaace to plaace

He cheerlessly is roamin’,

A Bachelor.

 

Naa cheerful hearth, naa fireside breet, —

A pictur’ maast delightin’ —

Shines in his gloomy cot at neet,

His haamward steps invitin’.

Naa thrifty wife, wi’ queen-like pride,

Sits thaar an’ plies her knittin’ ;

Thaar, by his dull an’ dark fireside,

He all forlorn is sittin’,

A Bachelor.

Come on wi’ me an’ view his cot, —

His haam, his habitation ;

Mark weel the lone man’s dreary lot,

His cheerless situation.

Thaar meeat, hauf-cook’d i’ mucky pan,

He swallows for subsistence :

It can’t be said “ Here lives a man ! ”

But yan drags out existence,

A Bachelor.

Mark weel his bed, baath stock an’ post,

His blanket an’ his sheet ;

Yon heeap o’ duds, in uproar tost,

Sarves for a bed at neet,

He doesn’t tak the thowt an’ caar

To spreead his rags about ;

But, like a fox into his lair,

Creeps in whar he crept out,

A Bachelor.

Exposed to cowd, exposed to damps,

Wi’ smook an’ muck weel scented ;

Wi’ rheumatism, pains an’ cramps,

He hourly is tormented.

To fower baar waus he may complain,

Naa livin’ soul comes near him ;

Thaar he may roll an’ graan with pain,

There’s naa kind wife to cheer him,

A Bachelor.

Of au the troubles, girt an’ sma’,

That harrass an’ distress man, —

Of au the evils that befa’,

To punish an’ oppress man, —

Of au the ills that curse his lot,

The warst that I can tell

Is to be shut in some dark cot

To live thaar by hissel,

A Bachelor.

Of au the sluts that e’er were seen

To slop through muck an’ watter,

Wi’ haar au hingin’ ower their een,

An’ claas au rag an’ tatter —

Or ony ill-tongued, scoldin’ shrew

Ye chance to hear or see —

Give me the warst amang the crew,

Before I’ll live an’ dee

A Bachelor.

All Poems

Composed on both barrels of my gun missing fire at a hare, one wet day, on account of my not using waterproof caps.

Advice To Young Ladies, given at the close of an address on temperance delivered by the poet

On reading a criticism

Brass

Lines composed on seeing a Woman intoxicated in Settle Streets on a Market Day.

A Prophetic Picture

‘Bacca Smookin’

The Fair

The Bachelor

Song Of The Old Maid

On shooting two dogs that were worrying sheep on the night of the 3rd January, 1865.

Johnny Bland, the Blacksmith

Husband and Wife Or, “ Wharivver hev ye been? ”

The Picnic

General Gordon

Owd Johnny an’ t’ ghoast

On the Death of John Griffith Owen

Letter to the Poet’s Brother, on extending his leave of absence

Church Gangin’

Captain and Mrs H-

Address to Strong Drink

T’ Kersmas Party

Lile Bobby