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Title: Come, Nivver Dee I' Thi Shell
Author: Bill o'th' Hoylus End [
More Titles by Bill o'th' Hoylus End]
"Come, nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad,"
Are words but rudely said;
Though they may cheer some stricken heart,
Or raise some wretched head;
For they are words I love mysel,
They're music to my ear;
They muster up fresh energy
An' chase each doubt an' fear.
Nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad,
Though tha be poor indeed;
Ner lippen ta long i' th' turnin' up
Sa mich ov a friend in need;
Fur few ther are, an' far between,
That help a poor man thru;
An' God helps them at help therseln,
An' they hev friends enew.
Nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad,
Whativver thi creditors say;
Tell um at least tha'rt foarst ta owe,
If tha artant able ta pay;
An' if they nail thi bits o' traps,
An' sell tha dish an' spooin;
Remember fickle forten lad,
Shoo changes like the mooin.
Nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad,
Though some may laugh an' scorn;
There wor nivver a neet afore ta neet,
Bud what ther' com a morn;
An' if blind forten used tha bad,
Sho's happen noan so meean;
Ta morn al come, an' then fer some
The sun will shine ageean.
Nivver dee i' thi shell, owd lad,
Bud let thi motto be,--
"Onward!" an' "Excelsior;"
An' try for t' top o't' tree:
An' if thi enemies still pursue,
Which ten-ta-one they will,
Show um owd lad, tha'rt doin' weel,
An' climin' up the hill.
[The end]
Bill o'th' Hoylus End's poem: Come, Nivver Dee I' Thi Shell
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