Missed his Mark.

A poem by John Hartley

Aw like fowrk to succeed i' life if they've an honest aim,
An even if they chonce to trip awm varry loath to blame;
Its sich a simple thing sometimes maks failure or success,
Th' prize oft slips by strugglin men to them 'at's striven less.
Aw envy nubdy Fortun's smiles, aw lang for 'em misen, -
But them at win her favors should dispense 'em nah an then.
An them 'at's blest wi' sunshine let 'em think o' those i'th' dark,
An nivver grudge a helpin hand to him 'at's missed his mark.

We connot allus hit it, - an ther's monny a toilin brain,
Has struggled for a lifetime, but its efforts proved in vain;
An monny a hardy son ov toil has worn his life away,
An all his efforts proved in vain to keep poverty at bay;
Wol others, bi a lucky stroke, have carved ther way to fame,
An ivvery thing they've tackled on has proved a winnin' game;
Let those who've met wi' fav'rin winds to waft-life's little bark,
Just spare a thowt, an gie a lift, to him 'at's missed his mark.

Aw hate to hear a purse-praad chap keep booastin of his gains, -
Sneerin at humble workin fowk who're richer far i' brains!
Aw hate all meean hard graspin slaves, who mak ther gold ther god, -
For if they could grab all ther is, awm pratty sewer they wod.
Aw hate fowk sanctimonious, whose humility is pride,
Who, when they see a chap distressed, pass by on tother side!
Aw hate those drones 'at share earth's hive, but shirk ther share o' wark,
Yet curl ther nooas at some poor soul, who's toiled, yet missed his mark.

Give me that man whose heart can feel for others griefs an woes; -
Who loves his friends an nivver bears a grudge ageean his foes;
Tho' kindly words an cheerin smiles are all he can bestow, -
If he gives that wi' willin heart, he does some gooid below.
An when th' time comes, as come it will, when th' race is at an end,
He'll dee noa poorer for what gooid he's ivver done a friend.
An when they gently put him by, - unconscious, stiff an stark,
His epetaph shall be, 'Here's one 'at didn't miss his mark.'