  By D. Lewis. The incident here recorded happened at a farm house, on Leeming Lane, some years ago, and is a favourite chap-book history. A sweeper's lad was late o' th' neeght, His slap-shod shoon had leeam'd his feet; He call'd te see a good awd deeame, 'At monny a time had trigg'd his weame; (For he wor then fahve miles fra yam.) He ax'd i' t' lair te let him sleep, An' he'd next day their chimlers sweep. They supper'd him wi' country fare, Then show'd him tul his hooal i' t' lair. He crept intul his streeahy bed, His pooak o' seeat beneath his heead; He wor content, nur car'd a pin, An' his good friend then lock'd him in. The lair frae t' hoose a distance stood, Between 'em grew a lahtle wood. Aboot midneeght, or nearer moorn, Twea thieves brack in te steeal their coorn; Hevin a leeght i' t' lantern dark, Seean they te winder fell te wark; An' wishing they'd a lad te fill, Young brush, (whea yet had ligg'd quite still,) Thinkin' 'at t' men belang'd te t' hoose, An' that he noo mud be o' use, Jump'd doon directly on te t' fleear, An' t' thieves beeath ran oot at deear; Nur stopt at owt nur thin nur thick, Fully convinc'd it wor awd Nick. The sweeper lad then ran reeght seean Te t' hoose, an' tell'd 'em what wor deean: Maister an' men then quickly raise, An' ran te t' lair wi' hawf ther cleeas. Twea horses, secks, an' leeght they fand, Which had been left by t' thievish band; These round i' t' neybourheead they cried, Bud nut an awner e'er applied; For neean durst horses awn nur secks, They wor seea freeghten'd o' ther necks. They seld the horses, an' of course, Put awf o' the brass i' sooty's purse; Desiring when he com that way, He'd awlus them a visit pay, When harty welcome he sud have Because he did ther barley save. Brush chink'd the guineas in his hand, An' oft te leeak at 'em did stand, As heeame he wistlin' teak his way; Blessin' t' awd deeame wha let him stay, An' sleep i' t' lair, when, late o' t' neeght, His slap-shod shoon had leeam'd his feet. |
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