I zeng o' _Mary Ramsey's Crutch!_
"Thic little theng!"--Why 'tis'n much
It's true, but still I like ta touch
Tha cap o' _Mary Ramsey's Crutch!_
She zed, wheniver she shood die,
Er little crutch she'd gee ta I.
Did Mary love me? eese a b'leeve.
She died--a veo vor her did grieve,--
An _but_ a veo--vor Mary awld,
Outliv'd er friends, or voun 'em cawld.
Thic crutch I had--I ha it still,
An port wi't wont--nor niver will.
O' her I lorn'd tha cris-cross-lâin;
I haup that't word'n quite in vâin!
'Twar her who teach'd me vust ta read
Jitch little words as _beef_ an _bread_;
An I da thenk 'twar her that, âter,
Lorn'd I ta read tha single zâter.
Poor Mary ôten used ta tell
O' das a past that pleas'd er well;
An mangst tha rest war zum o' jay
When I look'd up a little bway.
She zed I war a good one too,
An lorn'd my book athout tha _rue_.
[Footnote: This Lady, when her scholars neglected their duty, or
behaved ill, rubbed their fingers with the leaves of _rue!_]
Poor Mary's gwon!--a longful time
Zunz now!--er little scholard's prime
A-mâ-be's past.--It must be zaw;--
There's nothin stable here belaw!
O' Mary--âll left is--er _crutch!_
An thaw a gift, an 'tword'n much
'Tis true, still I da like ta touch
Tha cap o' _Mary Ramsey's Crutch!_
That I lov'd Mary, this ool tell.
I'll zâ na moor--zaw, fore well! [Footnote: Fare ye well.]