The Northern Cobbler

By Alfred Lord Tennyson

I. WAIT till our Sally cooms in, fur thou mun a sights1 to tell. Eh, but I be main glad to see tha sa arty an well. Cast away on a disolut land wi a vartical soon2! Strange fur to go fur to think what sailors a seen an a doon; Summat to drinksa ot? I a nowt but Adams wine: Whats the et o this little ill-side to the et o the line? II. Whats i tha bottle a-stanning theer? Ill tell tha. Gin. But if thou wants thy grog, tha mun go fur it down to the inn. Naayfur I be main-glad, but thaw tha was iver sa dry, Thou gits naw gin fro the bottle theer, an Ill tell tha why. III. Me an thy sister was married, when wur it? back-end o June, Ten year sin, and wa greed as well as a fiddle i tune: I could fettle and clump owd boots and shoes wi the best on em all, As fer as fro Thursby thurn hup to Harmsby and Hutterby Hall. We was busy as bees i the bloom an appy as art could think, An then the babby wur burn, and then I takes to the drink. IV. An I weant gainsay it, my lad, thaw I be hafe shamed on it now, We could sing a good song at the Plow, we could sing a good song at the Plow; Thaw once of a frosty night I slitherd an hurted my huck,3 An I coomd neck-an-crop soomtimes slape down i the squad an the muck: An once I fowt wi the Tailornot hafe ov a man, my lad Fur he scrawmd an scratted my face like a cat, an it madeer sa mad That Sally she turnd a tongue-banger4 an rated ma, Sottin thy brains Guzzlin an sokin an smokin an hawmin5 about i the lanes, So sow-droonk that tha doesn not touch thy at to the Squire; An I lookd cock-eyed at my nose an I seed im a-gittin o fire; But sin I wur hallus i liquor an hallus as droonk as a king, Folks coostom flitted away like a kite wi a brokken string. V. An Sally she weshd folks cloths to keep the wolf fro the door, Eh but the moor she riled me, she druv me to drink the moor, Fur I fun, when er hack wur turnd, wheer Sallys owd stockin wur id, An I grabbd the munny she made, and I werd it o liquor, I did. VI. An one night I cooms om like a bull gotten loose at a fair, An she wur a-waitin fomma, an cryin and terin er air, An I tummled athurt the cradle an swerd as Id break ivry stick O furnitur ere i the ouse, an I gied our Sally a kick, An I mashd the tables an chairs, an she an the babby beld,6 Fur I knawd naw moor what I did nor a mortal best o the feld. VII. An when I waked i the murnin I seed that our Sally went lamed Cos o the kick as I gied er, an I wur dreadful ashamed; An Sally wur sloomy7 an draggle taild in an owd turn gown, An the babbys face wurnt weshd an the ole ouse hupside down. VIII. An then I minded our Sally sa patty an net an sweet, Strait as a pole an clen as a flower fro ead to feet: An then I minded the fust kiss I gied er by Thursby thurn; Theer wur a lark a-singin is best of a Sunday at murn, Couldnt see im, we erd im a-mountin oop igher an igher, An then e turnd to the sun, an e shined like a sparkle o fire. Doesnt tha see im, she axes, fur I can see im? an I Seed nobbut the smile o the sun as danced in er pratty blue eye; An I says I mun gie tha a kiss, an Sally says No, thou mont, But I gied er a kiss, an then anoother, an Sally says dont! IX. An when we coomd into Meetin, at fust she wur all in a tew, But, arter, we singd the ymn togither like birds on a beugh; An Muggins e prechd o Hell-fire an the loov o God fur men, An then upo coomin away Sally gied me a kiss ov ersen. X. Heer wur a fall fro a kiss to a kick like Satan as fell Down out o heaven i hell-firethaw theers naw drinkin i Hell; Me fur to kick our Sally as kep the wolf fro the door, All along o the drink, fur I loovd er as well as afoor. XI. Sa like a gret num-cumpus I blubberd away o the bed Went niver do it naw moor; an Sally loookt up an she said, Ill upowd it8 tha went; thourt like the rest o the men, Thoull go sniffin about the tap till tha does it agan. Theers thy hennemy, man, an I knaws, as knaws tha sa well, That, if tha sees im an smells im thall foller im slick into Hell. XII. Nay, says I, fur I went go sniffin about the tap. Went tha? she says, an mysen I thowt i mysen mayhap. No: an I started away like a shot, an down to the Hinn, An I browt what tha sees stannin theer, yon big black bottle o gin. XIII. That caps owt,9 says Sally, an saw she begins to cry, But I puts it inter er ands an I says to er, Sally, says I, Stan im theer i the name o the Lord an the power ov is Grace, Stan im theer, fur Ill look my hennemy strait i the face, Stan im theer i the winder, an let ma look at im then, E seems naw moor nor watter, an es the Divils on sen. XIV. An I wur down i tha mouth, couldnt do naw work an all, Nasty an snaggy an shaky, an poonchd my and wi the hawl, But she wur a power o coomfut, an sattled ersen o my knee, An coxd an coodled me oop till agen I feeld mysen free. XV. An Sally she telld it about, an folk stood a-gawmin10 in, As thaw it wur summat bewitchd istead of a quart o gin; An some on em said it wur watteran I wur chousin the wife, Fur I couldnt owd ands off gin, wur it nobbut to save my life; An blacksmith e strips me the thick ov is airm, an e shaws it to me, Feel thou this! thou cant graw this upo watter! says he. An Doctor e calls o Sunday an just as candles was lit, Thou mont do it, he says, tha mun break im off bit by bit. Thourt but a Methody-man, says Parson, and lays down is at, An e points to the bottle o gin, but I respeeks tha fur that; An Squire, his on very sen, walks down fro the All to see, An e spanks is and into mine, fur I respecks tha, says e; An coostom agen drawd in like a wind fro far an wide, And browt me the boots to be cobbled fro hafe the coontryside. XVI. An theer e stans an theer e shall stan to my dying day; I a gotten to loov im agen in anoother kind of a way, Proud on im, like, my lad, an I keeps im clen an bright, Loovs im, an roobs im, an doosts im, an puts im back i the light. XVII. Wouldnt a pint a sarved as well as a quart? Naw doubt: But I liked a bigger fetter to fight wi an fowt it out. Fine an meller e mun be by this, if I cared to taste, But I mont, my lad, and I went, fur Id fel mysen clen disgraced. XVIII. An once I said to the Missis, My lass, when I cooms to die, Smash the bottle to smithers, the Divils in im, said I. But arter I changed my mind, an if Sally be left alon, Ill hev im a-buried wimma an takt im afoor the Thron. XIX. Coom thou eeryon lady a-steppin along the street, Doesnt tha knaw ersa pratty, an fet, an net, an sweet? Look at the cloths on er back, thebbe ammost spick-span-new, An Tommys face be as fresh as a codlin weshd i the dew. XX. Ere he our Sally an Tommy, an we be a-goin to dine, Bacon an tates, an a beslings-pud-din11 an Adams wine; But if tha wants ony grog tha mun go fur it down to the Hinn, Fur I went shed a drop on is blood, no, not fur Sallys on kin.