The Poetry Corner

Aw Can't Tell.

By John Hartley

Aw nivver rammel mich abaat, Aw've summat else to do; But yet aw think, withaat a daat, Aw've seen a thing or two. One needn't leeav his native shoor, An visit foreign lands, - At hooam he'll find a gooid deeal moor Nor what he understands. Aw can't tell why a empty heead Should be held up soa heigh, Or why a suit o' clooas should leead Soa monny fowk astray. Aw can't tell why a child 'at's born To lord or lady that, Should be soa worship'd, wol they scorn A poor man's little brat. Aw can't tell why a workin man Should wear his life away, Wol maisters grasp at all they can, An grudge a chap his pay. Aw can't tell why a lot o' things Are as they seem to be; But if its nowt to nubdy else, Ov coorse its nowt to me.