Thomas Blackah Poems

Coom, don on thy bonnet an' shawl,
An' straighten thy cap an' thy hair;
I's really beginnin' to stall
To see thee sit dazzin' i' t' chair.
...

I'll wear thee yet awhile, awd hat,
I'll wear thee yet awhile;
Though time an' tempest, beath combined,
Have changed thy shap an' style.
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Attenshun all, baith grate an' small,
An' dooant screw up yer feeaces;
While I rehearse, i' simple verse,
A' coont o' Pateley Reeaces.
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Dear comrade, whose unhappy fate we mourn,
So soon from thy domestic circle torn;
By cruel death’s cold, grim, relentless hand,
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