Tha'rt welcome, little bonny brid, But shouldn't ha' come just when tha did; Toimes are bad. We're short o' pobbies for eawr Joe But that, of course, tha didn't know, Did ta lad? Aw've often yeard mi feyther tell 'At when aw coom i' th' world misel' Trade wur slack; And neaw it's hard wark pooin' throo— But aw munno fear thee,-iv aw do Thall go back Cheer up! these toimes 'll awter soon; Aw'm beawn to beigh another spoon— One for thee;— An' as tha's sich a pratty face Aw'll let thi have eawr Charley's place On mi knee. God bless thi, love! aw'm fain tha'rt come, Just try and mak' thisel' awhoam; Here's thi nest; Tha'rt loike thi mother to a tee, But tha's thi feyther's mose aw see. Well, aw'm blest! Come, come, tha needn't look so shy Aw am no' blamin' thee, not I; Settle deawn, An' tak this haupney for thisel', Ther's lots of sugar-sticks to sell Deawn i'th' teawn. Aw know when first aw coom to th' leet, Aw're fond o'owt at'tasted sweet; Tha'll be th' same. But come, tha's never towd thi dad What he's to co' thi yet me lad, What's thi name? Hush! hush! tha mustn't cry this way, But get this sope o' cinder tay While it's warm; Mi mother used to give it me, When aw wur sicha lad as thee, In her arm. Hush-a-babby, hush-a-bee,— Oh, what a temper! dear-a-me Heaw tha skrikes! Here's a bit o' sugar, sithee; Howd thi noise, an' then aw'll gie thee Owt tha likes. We've nobbut getten coarsish fare, But' eawt o' this tha'll get thi share, Never fear. Aw hope tha'll never want a meal, But allus fill thi bally weel While tha'rt here. Thi feyther's noan been wed so lung, An yet tha sees he's middlin' thrung Wi' yo' o. Besides thi little brother Ted We've one upsteers, asleep i' bed, Wi' eawr Joe. But tho' we've childer two or three, We'll mak' a bit o' reawm for thee, Bless thee lad! Tha'rt th' prattiest brid we have i' th' nest, So hutch up closer to mi breast; Aw'm thi dad.