Bonny Yorksher Poem by John Hartley

Bonny Yorksher! how aw love thi!
Hard an rugged tho' thi face is;
Ther's an honest air abaat thi,
Aw ne'er find i' other places.
Ther's a music i' thi lingo,
Spreeads a charm o'er hill an valley,
As a drop ov Yorksher stingo
Warms an cheers a body's bally.
Ther's noa pooasies 'at smell sweeter,
Nor thy modest moorland blossom,
Th' violet's een ne'er shone aght breeter
Nor on thy green mossy bosom.
Hillsides deckt wi' purple heather,
Guard thy dales, whear plenty dwellin
Hand i' hand wi' Peace, together
Tales ov sweet contentment tellin.
On the scroll ov fame an glory,
Names ov Yorksher heroes glisten;
History tells noa grander stooary,
An it thrills me as aw listen.
Young men blest wi' brain an muscle,
Swarm i' village, taan an city,
Nah as then prepared to tussle,
Wi' the brave, the wise, the witty.
An thy lasses,--faithful,--peerless,--
Matchless i' ther bloom an beauty,--
Modest, lovin, brave an fearless,
Praad ov Hooam an firm to Duty.
Aw've met nooan i' other places
Can a cannle hold beside 'em;
Rich i' charms an winnin graces;--
Aw should know becoss aw've tried 'em.
Balmy breezes, blow yer mildest!
Sun an shaars yer blessins shed!
Thrush an blackburd pipe yor wildest
Skylarks trill heigh ovverheead!
Robin redbreast,--little linnet,
Sing yor little songs wi' glee;
Till wi' melody each minnit,
Makin vocal bush an tree.
Wild flaars don yer breetest dresses,
Breathe sweet scents on ivvery gale;
Stately trees wave heigh yer tresses,
Flingin charms o'er hill an dale.
Dew fall gently,--an sweet Luna,
Keep thy lovin watch till morn;--
All unite to bless an prosper,
That dear spot whear aw wor born.