That's A Fact Poem by John Hartley

A'a Mary aw'm glad 'at that's thee!
Aw need thy advice, lass, aw'm sure;
Aw'm all ov a mooild tha can see,
Aw wor never i' this way afoor,
Aw've net slept a wink all th' neet throo;
Aw've been twirling abaght like a worm,
An' th' blankets gate felter'd, lass, too--
Tha niver saw cloas i' sich form.
Aw'll tell thee what 't all wor abaght--
But promise tha'll keep it reight squat,
For aw wodn't for th' world let it aght;
But aw can't keep it in--tha knows that.
We'd a meetin at the schooil yesterneet,
An' Jimmy wor thear,--tha's seen Jim?
An' he hutch'd cloise to me in a bit,
To ax me for th' number o'th' hymn;
Aw thowt 't wor a gaumless trick,
For he heeard it geen aght th' same as me;
An' he just did th' same thing tother wick,--
It made fowk tak noatice, dos't see.
An' when aw wor gooin towards hooam
Aw heeard som'dy comin behund:
'Twor pitch dark, an' aw thowt if they coom,
Aw should varry near sink into th' graund.
Aw knew it wor Jim bi his traid,
An' aw tried to get aght ov his gate;
But a'a! tha minds, lass, aw wor flaid,
Aw wor niver i' sich en a state.
Then aw felt som'dy's arm raand my shawl,
An' aw said, 'nah, leave loise or aw'll screeam!
Can't ta let daycent lasses alooan,
Consarn thi up! what does ta mean?'
But he stuck to mi arm like a leach,
An' he whispered a word i' mi ear;
It took booath my breeath an' my speech,
For aw'm varry sooin thrown aght o' gear.
Then he squeezed me cloise up to his sel,
An' he kussed me, i' spite o' mi teeth:
Aw says, 'Jimmy, forshame o' thisel!'
As sooin as aw'd getten mi breeath:
But he wodn't be quiet, for he said
'At he'd loved me soa true an' soa long--
Aw'd ha' geen a ear off my yed
To get loise--but tha knows he's so a strong--
Then he tell'd me he wanted a wife,
An' he begged 'at aw wodn't say nay;--
Aw'd ne'er heeard sich a tale i' mi life,
Aw wor fesen'd whativer to say;
Cos tha knows aw've a likin' for Jim;
But yo can't allus say what yo mean,
For aw tremeld i' ivery limb,
But at last aw began to give way,
For, raylee, he made sich a fuss,
An aw kussed him an' all--for they say,
Ther's nowt costs mich less nor a kuss.
Then he left me at th' end o' awr street,
An' aw've felt like a fooil all th' neet throo;
But if aw should see him to neet,
What wod ta advise me to do?
But dooant spaik a word--tha's noa need,
For aw've made up mi mind ha to act,
For he's th' grandest lad iver aw seed,
An' aw like him th' best too--that's a fact!