On—on! they go! as if some foe Wor charging at the lot! If they got there, they didn’t care A fig for poor Will Scott!
Poor lame ould Will, remains there still, His crutches has to fetch him; But he’s seen the toime, when in his prime, At nobody there could catch him.
Like some fast steed, wi’ all its speed, All seem’d as they wor flying; To escape the rain, an’ catch the train, Both old and young wor trying.
One neet, old Wills, about Crosshills, He heeard a fearful humming, He said t’ woife, upon my life, Aw think the French are coming!
Tha knaws reight weel at we’ve heeard tell O sich strange things before, So lass look quick, an’ cut thee stick, An’ a will bolt the door.
Like drahnded rats, they pass their mates, An’ rans dahn to the station; And Betty Bakes an’ Sally Shakes, Their both plump aht o’ patience.
“This is a mess,” says little Bess, At lives o’t top o’t garden; “There’s my new shawl an’ fine lace fall, They’ll nut be worth a farden.”
But, hark! ding-dong goes through the throng, The bell does give the sign, With all its force, the iron horse, Comes trotting up the line.
Then one by one they all get on, Wet, fatigued and weary; The steam does blow, old Ned doth go, And we come back so cheery.
All satisfied we their short ride— But sorry for the rain— Each thenkt ther stars they’re nowt no war, An’ we’ve got home again.
Whene’er we roam away from home, No matter where or when, In storm or shower, if in wer power, To home—sweet home, return!
What we had seen—where we had been— Each to our friend wor telling: The day being spent, we homeward went To each respective dwelling.
Dame Europa kept a Lodging House, And she was fond of brass; She took in public lodgers, Of every rank and class.
She’d French and Germans, Dutch and Swiss, And other nations too; So poor old Mrs. Europe Had plenty work to do.
I cannot just now name her beds, Her number being so large; But five she kept for deputies, Which she had in her charge.
So in this famous Lodging house, John Bull he stood A ONE, On whom she always kept an eye, To see things rightly done.
And Master Louis was her next, And second, there’s no doubt, For when a little row took place, He always backed John out.
For in her house was Alex Russ, Oft him they ey’d with fear; For Alex was a lazy hound, And kept a Russian Bear.