Mother-in-law:
IF I had known
Afore you wur wed
T’ sort that you wur
I wud have said
Liefer nor wed you
I’d see my son dead.
Three pund a week,
A varra good house,
Niver a clout from him,
Niver a curse;
There’s mony a lass
Might have done worse.
You doan’t know your luck-
Allus at t’ door,
Gloorin’ up t’ highroad
Leadin’ to t’ moor;
You’ve t’ wanderin’ heart
Of which no man is sure.
Daughter-in-law:
Happen you’re reet.
At t’ coomin’ of spring
I’ve niver a thowt
But to get back to ling
An’ heather; an’ hearken
A laverock sing.
I’ve heart of a lapwing.
God! how I hate
Din of these tram-cars,
Early an’ late,
When t’ wind is in alders
An’ becks are in spate.
You should have chosen
A Leeds girl astead,
One wi’ fine manners
(Not one who was bred
Where t’ four winds mak’ music),
For your son to wed.
Say a word more,
I’ll pack up an’ go
Back to High Withins
Wheer marybuds grow
An’ curlew are cryin’;
Noo leave me. Heart’s woe!
(Dorothy Una Ratcliffe)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, God Poems, Spring PoemsBased on Keywords: liefer, allus, varra, wheer, cryin, leadin, reet, thowt, doan, wud, spate
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