A'a! its grand to have th' place to yorsen!
To get th' wimmen fowk all aght o'th' way!
Mine's all off for a trip up to th' Glen,
An aw've th' haase to misen for a day.

If aw'd mi life to spend ovver ageean,
Aw'd be bothered wi' nooan o' that mak;
What they're gooid for aw nivver could leearn,
Except to spooart clooas o' ther back.

Nah, aw'll have a quiet pipe, just for once,
Aw'm soa thankful to think 'at they're shut;
An its seldom a chap has a chonce;--
Whear the dickens has th' matches been put?

Well, nah then, aw've th' foir to leet,--
It will'nt tak long will'nt that,
An as sooin as its gotten burned breet,
Aw'il fry some puttates up i' fat.

Aw know aw'm a stunner to cook,--
Guys-hang-it! this kinlin's damp!
It does nowt but splutter an smook,
An this Hue's ov a varry poor stamp.

It's lukkin confaandedly black,--
Its as dismal an dull as mi hat;
Nah, Sal leets a foir in a crack,--
Aw will give her credit for that.

Ther's nowt nicer nor taties when fried,--
Aw could ait em to ivvery meal;
Aw can't get 'em, altho' aw've oft tried,--
Its some trouble aw know varry weel.

Th' foirs aght! an it stops aght for me!
Aw'il bother noa mooar wi' th' old freet!
Next time they set off for a spree,
They'st net leeav me th' foir to leet.

Aw dooant care mich for coffee an teah,
Aw can do wi' some milk an a cake;
An fried taties they ne'er seem to me,
Worth th' bother an stink 'at they make.

Whear's th' milk? Oh, its thear, an aw'm blest,
That cat has its heead reight i'th' pot;
S'cat! witta! A'a, hang it aw've missed!
If aw hav'nt aw owt to be shot!

An th' pooaker's flown cleean throo a pane;
It wor fooilish to throw it, that's true;
Them 'at keep sich like cats are insane,
For aw ne'er see noa gooid 'at they do.

Aw think aw'il walk aght for a while,
But, bless us! mi shooin isn't blackt!
Aw'm net used to be sarved i' this style,
An aw think at ther's somdy gooan crackt.

It doesn't show varry mich thowt,
When aw'm left wi' all th' haasewark to do,
For fowk to set off an do nowt,
Net soa mich as to blacken a shoe.

It'll be dinner time nah varry sooin,--
An ther's beefsteaks i'th' cubbord aw know;
But aw can't leet that foir bi nooin,
An aw can't ait beefsteak when its raw.

Aw tell'd Sal this morn 'at shoo'd find,
A rare appetite up i' that Glen;
An aw think if aw dooant change mi mind,
Aw shall manage to find one misen.

Aw wor fooilish to send 'em away,
But they'll ha to do th' best at they can;
But aw'st feel reight uneasy all th' day,--
Wimmen's net fit to goa baght a man.

They've noa nooation what prices to pay,
An they dooant know th' best places to call;
Aw'il be bun it'll cost 'em to-day,
What wod pay my expences an all.

It luks better, aw fancy, beside,
When a chap taks his family raand;
Nah, suppooas they should goa for a ride,
An be pitched ovver th' brig an be draand.

Aw ne'er should feel happy ageean,
If owt happen'd when aw wor away;
An to leeav 'em i' danger luks meean,
Just for th' sake o' mi own quiet day.

Aw could catch th' train at leeavs abaat nooin;
E'e, gow! that'll be a gooid trick!
An aw'st get a gooid dinner for gooin,
An th' foir can goa to old Nick.

Its a pity to miss mi quiet day,
But its better to do that 'at's reight;
An it matters nowt what fowk may say,
But a chap mun ha summat to ait,