Roughest roads, we often find,
Lead us on to th’ nicest places;
Kindest hearts oft hide behind
Some o’th’ plainest-lukkin faces.
Flaars whose colors breetest are,
Oft delight awr wond’ring seet;
But ther’s others, humbler far,
Smell a thaasand times as sweet.
Burds o’ monny color’d feather,
Please us as they skim along,
But ther charms all put together,
Connot equal th’ skylark’s song.
Bonny women–angels seemin,–
Set awr hearts an brains o’ fire;
But its net ther beauties; beamin,
Its ther gooidness we admire.
Th’ bravest man ‘at’s in a battle,
Isn’t allus th’ furst i’th’ fray;
He best proves his might an’ mettle,
Who remains to win the day.
Monkey’s an vain magpies chatter,
But it doesn’t prove ’em wise;
An it’s net wi noise an clatter,
Men o’ sense expect to rise.
‘Tis’nt them ‘at promise freely,
Are mooast ready to fulfill;
An ’tis’nt them ‘at trudge on dreely
‘At are last at top o’th’ hill.
Bad hauf-craans may pass as payment,
Gaudy flaars awr e’en beguile;
Women may be loved for raiment,
Show may blind us for a while;
But we sooin grow discontented,
An for solid worth we sigh,
An we leearn to prize the jewel,
Tho’ it’s hidden from the eye.
Him ‘at thinks to gether diamonds
As he walks along his rooad,
Nivver need be tired wi’ huggin,
For he’ll have a little looad.
Owt ‘at’s worth a body’s winnin
Mun be toiled for long an hard;
An tho’ th’ struggle may be pinnin,
Perseverance wins reward.
Earnest thowt, an constant strivin,
Ever wi’ one aim i’th’ seet;
Tho’ we may be late arrivin,
Yet at last we’st come in reet.
He who WILL succeed, he MUST,
When he’s bid false hopes farewell,
If he firmly fix his trust
In his God, and in hissel.
(John Hartley)
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