A Lucky Dog.

A poem by John Hartley

Tha'rt a rough en; - aye tha art, - an aw'll bet
Just as ready. Tha ne'er lived as a pet,
Aw can tell.
Ther's noa mistress weshed thi skin, cooam'd thi heead;
Net mich pettin; kicks an cuffins oft asteead,
Like mysel.

Tha'rt noa beauty; - nivver wor; - nivver will;
Ther's lots like thee amang men, - but then still,
Sich is fate;
An its fooilish for to be discontent
At a thing we've noa paar to prevent.
That's true mate.

Why tha's foller'd one like me aw cant tell;
If tha'rt seekin better luck, - its a sell,
As tha'll find;
Nay, tha needn't twitch thi tail aght o' seet,
Aw'll nooan hurt thi, tho' aw own tha'rt a freet.
Nivver mind.

Here's mi supper, an aw'll spare thee a part, -
Gently, pincher! Tak thi time. Here tha art;
That's thy share.
Are ta chooakin? Sarve thi reight! Tak thi time!
Why it's wasted, owt 'at's gien thee 'at's prime.
Aw declare.

Are ta lukkin for some mooar? Tha's a cheek
Tha mud nivver had a taste for a week,
Tha'rt soa small;
Aw've net tasted sin this nooin, - soa tha knows!
Thi maath watters, - awm a fooil, - but here gooas,
Tak it all.

Tha luks hungry even yet,-aw believe
Tha'd caar thear as long as awd owt to give,
But it's done.
Are ta lost? Aw'll tell thi what tha'd best do
Draand thisen! or let's toss up which o'th' two,
Just for fun.

Come, heead or tail? If its heead then its thee,
But net furst time, - we'll have two aght o' three, -
One to me.
Nah, it's tail, - one an one, - -fairly tost, -
If its tail a second time, then aw've lost;
Two to thee.

Soa it's sattled, an tha's won; - aw've to dee,
But aw think it weant meean mich to thee
If aw dull;
For if awm poor, life is still sweet to all,
Deeath's walkin raand, he's pratty sewer to call,
Sooin enuff.

Aw'll toss noa moor, awm aght o' luck to neet,
Aw'll goa to bed, an tha can sleep baght leet
Aw expect.
If tha'd ha lost, as sewer as here's a clog,
Tha'd had to draand, but thart a lucky dog,
Recollect.