The Trapper Lad Starts Work
Mi gran-fadder Tim, this is in 1860,
His Mam com waken'd him, reet dark still it woz aal abowt;
His Mam set him on the way, fer it woz pick-black thor,
"Leave him ti mi - he's Dick Platts' lad in-he?
Forbye it woz aal wheest an' black. Wiv a whoosh
His Da wor waitin' for him at the bottom:
In the flickerin' shaddy an' lamp-leet they com tiv a door;
"You're ti stay here Tim," he sed, "an' mind the door.
Tim tried it oot, it was not ower-heavy for him,
Oot thru the gap com a fiery-eyed pony, pantin' and gleamin' i'the lowe,
Wick as owt, the little cavalcade hed passed,
An' roon' his bit cove, raas o' dottid e'en lit up,
There woz tubs and waits an' then his Da com an' et bait wi' him.
But ten hours is a dowly lang time; Tim dover'd ower
An' then they was oot, hiem agen in the dark, ti wesh an' eat.
"Timorra, thoo'l collect thy ahn lamp; rimembor ti return it.
"Aye (an' he laff'd) - the owerman com by an' seed yi asleep
"But mind it diznut happen ye again.
"Aye, fadder, Ah'll mind," sed Tim. Then his big brother com in: