Owd Moxy Poem by Ben Preston

Owd Moxy wrowt hard for his morsil o' breead,
An' to keep up his courage he'd sing,
Tho' Time wi' his scythe hed mawn t' crop on his heead
An' then puffed it away wi' his wing.

Reight slavish his labour an' little his wage,
His path tuv his grave were bud rough,
Poor livin' an' hardships, a deal more nor age,
Hed swealed daan his can'le to t' snuff.

One cowd winter morn, as he crept aat o' bed,
T' owd waller felt dizzy an' sore:-
'Come, frame us some breykfast, Owd Duckfooit, he said,
'An' I'll finish yond fence up at t' moor;

'I'll tew like a brick wi' my hammer an' mall,
An' I'll bring home my honey to t' hive,
An' I'll pay t' bit o' rent an' wer shop-score an' all,
An' I'll dee aat o' debt if I live.'

So Peg made his pobs an' then futtered abaat,
An' temm'd him his tea into 't can,
Then teed up some bacon an' breead in a claat,
For dearly shoo liked her owd man.

Then Moxy set aat on his wearisome way,
Wadin' bravely throo t' snaw-broth i' t' dark;
It's a pity when fellas at's wakely an' grey
Hes to walk for a mile to their wark.

Bud summat that mornin' made Moxy turn back,
Tho' he hardly knew what it could meean,
So, cudlin' Owd Peggy, he gave her a smack,
An' then started for t' common ageean.

All t' day a wild hurricane wuther'd throo t' glen,
An' then rush'd like a fiend up to t' heeath;
An' as Peggy sat knittin' shoo said tuv hersen,
'Aw dear! he'll be starruv'd to t' deeath.'

An' shoo felt all that day as shoo'd ne'er felt afore,
An' shoo dreeaded yit hunger'd for neet ;
When harknin' an' tremlin' shoo heeard abaat t' door
A mutterin, an' shufflin o' feet.

Five minutes at after, Owd Peg, on her knees,
Were kussin' a forehead like stone;
An' to t' men at stood by her wi' tears i' their ees,
Shoo said, 'Go, lads, an' leave me alone.'

When they straightened his body, all ready for t' kist,
It were seen at he'd thowt of his plan;
For t' shop-score an' t' rent war safe locked in his fist,
So he deed aat o' debt, like a man.