  THE neighbours all remember weel Once Dolly bought a gaon; A painted lin, the grandest thing; Ther but one piece ith taon. The boy ith shop he teld her soa; A merry joaking lad: He said it wor t' first gaon o't piece That ony one had had:— And if shoo'd come when it wor made, And let him see it on, A handkerchy he'd give to her, If he're a living man. The gaon wor made, to 'th church shoo went; But what gave most delight, Shoo heeard foulks whisper as shoo past, I never so the like! But when shoo coom at Rubin's cot, A hut that stood o'th moor, Old Rubin sat, and Grace his wife, Both smooking at the door. "Good morning, Dolly," old Grace said, "I wonder'd wo't could be." Surprised shoo stud, her hands both up, "What mun I live to see!" "Is tat thy choice," old Rubin said,— "Tha beots old Judy Gazer, Shoo'd fifty gaons, but nooan like that,— I'gy it is a blazer!" Gay Dolly laugh'd, old Rubin said— "Come in and sit te daon;" But Dolly tript along the green, Delighted with her gaon. The church shoo enter'd, 'twor begun, The best time to be seen; Some sat and star'd, and some stood up, As if shoo'd been the queen. This confirm'd Dolly in her choice; Her gaon wurt first in stile: The priest, and clark, and all did stare, And some, shoo thought, did smile. This printed gaon had broad green leaves, With branches thick and tall; Red burds and yollow, ducks and geese, The huntsman, haonds and all. Thus Dolly sat, like Sheba's queen, The grandest in the place; A sidelong glance sometimes shoo cast But did not turn her face. Her prayer-book shoo seem'd to read, As other people do; But her devotion was her dress, Her gaon wor spanking new. The church did loase, and still they star'd; Some laugh'd and made a stur: The childer too came running raond, One pointing said, "That's hur." "Ah! what a gaon!" shoo heeard 'em say, "Wi yollow burds and red: It's just sich stuff as gentle fooak Makes curtains for their bed." This confused Dolly all at once, Shoo knew not where shoo'er baon; For fooaks shoo met, they laugh'd and said— "Haa like ye yo'r new gaon?" But Dolly shoo would speyk to nooan; To meet fouk shoo were feard: For some took hold o' Dolly's gaon, And ast what twor a yeord. Shoo call'd to see old Betty Hay, While chapel fouk went past; As shoo went in shoo heeard 'em say, "Shoo's getten here at last." This wor a spice shop, where t' lads met; A merry hoil it ware: Lads making fun o' all they could, And Dolly gat her share. The haaos wor fill'd, but all gave place; "Come, Dolly, sit ye daon:" When hoaf a dozen lads cried aaot— "That is a bonny gaon!" "Yo've bet'em, Dolly, all to day; Yo'r gaon is first in stile: It's been admir'd by all ith church, Old priest, we saw him smile. "Yo've vext old Mrs. Smith to day; Her dress is nout like this: Shoo knows it too, they all do say, And's taen it quite amiss. "When t' childer laugh'd at yo'r new gaon, Shoo turn'd her face toth wal; When church did loase, shoo went back way, So as to miss 'em all." Some thought this gaon could not be bought At Halifax at all: It wor a London print, they thought; 'T piece sud be sent for—all. A what a profit Dolly'd got! Shoo'd sell it in a crack; "This dress beoats all, come, lads, and see A hunt o' Dolly's back!" The noise wor great, the laugh wor loud; Lads shaoting hard a-way: Poor Dolly rag'd, some said shoo swore, At last we heeard her say— "Gooid God!" said Dolly, stamping mad, "Whatever sall I hear? I'm t' laughing stock for all, egad, I'm war nor ever here." Up Dolly jumps—this is a hoil; Ol gooa, it dos'n't meon: Shoo heeard t' lads say oth aaotside door— "Shoo's coming aaot ageon." Lads pull'd her daon, but still shoo'd goa; And running straight at door: Chears and tables, spice and nuts Shoo tumbled on toth floor. "What will yo do," old Betty said, When chears and tables crash'd; "Me spice and apples daon oth floor, And cumfit glass is smash'd." Lads ran at apples, spice and nuts, All sprawling daon o'th floor; Poor Dolly said, "If I get aaot, Yol catch me here no moore." "Naa, flint-faced Tom," old Betty said, "There's not a war ith taon;" Tha held her fast, then late her slip, Tha new shoo'd nock stuff daon. "Aye, tha my laugh, tha brazen'd thing, But will ta mak it up; There is not hoaf oth stuff just naa I had before ith shop. "Such sturs as these I hate to see;"— Tom said he ne'er begunt; "Old tale ageon, its none o'me, It's olas nubdy's dunt. "There's winkin Will, and Jack ith oil, Thes not two war ith shop; I saw yo pushing lasses daon, |
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