To Th’ Comin' New-Year —1910. Poem by William Baron

Well, what are ta bringin' us, like, when theaw comes ?—
We're feelin' quite anxious to know ;
Is it good news 'at'll gladden eawr hearts ?—
Or is it a message o' woe ?
Whichever it be, we'll give welcome to thee,
For no deawt theaw'll do th' best 'at theaw con
To breeten eawr lot durin' th' time 'at theaw'rt here,
An' get a good name when theaw'rt gone.

When thi dad's passed away, an' theaw fills up his place
As monarch i'th' Palace o' Time,
Try an' mek a big effort to cheer th' sufferin' race,
As up life's steep ridges they climb.
Bad trade an' dissensions we've hed long enuff—
We want summat diff'rent to this ;
Ther's reawm for improvement, sooa bear it i' mind,
An' remedy things 'at's amiss.

Let's hev no big cotton ' rings' durin' thy reign,
For they've caused enuff misery i'th' past;
Just teych th' speculators what honesty meeans,—
An' see 'at they howd th' lesson fast.
Th' world's comin' to summat—it is to be sure !—
An' things mun ha' reyched a fine pitch,
When Trade con be crippled, an' Commerce laid low,
Sooa 'at wastrels like these may grow rich.

Thi post is no sinecure—that theaw'll find eawt,
Theaw'll be sorely tried neaw an' agen ;
But give us good reason to look back wi' joy
On th' year Nineteen Hundherd and Ten.
Throw good fortune areawnd !—let contentment abeawnd !—
See 'at th' hungry ne'er want for a meal !—
Mek th' world breet and gay, banish discord away,
An' we'll say 'at theaw's done thi wark weel!