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Title: The Lucky Dreeam, Or An Awd Thing Renewed
Author: John Castillo [
More Titles by Castillo]
Yah Kesenmas neeght, or then aboot,
When meeasons all wur frozen oot,
Ah went te see a coontry frind,
An hospitable hoor te spend.
For gains Ah cut across at moor,
Whoor t’snaw seea furiously did stour:—
The hoose Ah geean’d, an’ enter’d in,
An’ wor as welcome as a king.
The stoorm ageean t’winder patter’d,
An’ hailsteeans doon t’chimler clatter’d,
All hands wur in, an’ seeam’d content,
An’ neean did frost or snaw lament.
T’lasses all wur at ther sowing,
Ther cheeks wi’ health an’ beauty glowing.
Aroond the heearth in cheerful chat
Twea’r three frindly neeaburs sat;
Ther travels telling,—whoor they’d been,
An’ what they hed beeath heeard an’ seen;
Till yan us all did mitch amuse,
An’ thus a stoory introduce.
“Ah recollect lang sin,” sez he,
“A stoory that wur tell’d te me,
’At seeams seea straange i’ this oor day,
That true or false Ah cannut say.
A man liv’d in this neybourheead,
Neea doot ov reputation gud,
An’ lang taame strave w’ stiddy care,
Te keep his hooshod i’ repair.
At length he hed a curious dreeam,
For three neeghts runnin ’twur the seeam;
’At if on Lunnon Brigg he stood,
He’d heear sum news wad deea him gud.
He labour’d hard, beeath neeght an’ day,
Tryin te draave thooase thowghts away,
Yet daily grew mare discontent,
Till he at last te Lunnon went!
Being quite a stranger te that toon,
Lang taame he wander’d up an’ doon,
Till led by sum mysterious hand,
On Lunnon Brigg he teeak his stand;
An’ theer he waited day by day,
An’ just wur boon te cum away,
Seea mitch he thowght he wur te bleeam,
Te gang seea far aboot a dreeam,
When thus a man, as he drew neear,
Did say, “Good friend, what seek you here,
Where I have seen you soon and late?”
His dreeam te him he did relate.
“Dreams,” sez the man, “are empty things,
Mere thoughts that flit on silver’d wings;
Unheeded we should let them pass:—
I’ve had a dream, and thus it was,
That somewhere round this peopled ball,
There’s such a place as Lealholm Hall;
Yet whether such a place there be,
Or not, is all unknown to me.
There in a cellar, dark and deep,
Where slimy creatures nightly creep,
And human footsteps never tread,
There is a store of treasure hid.
If it be so, I have no doubt,
Some lucky wight will find it out:
Yet so or not, is nought to me,
For I shall ne’er go there to see!”
The man did slyly twice or thrice,
The cockney thenk for his advice,
Then heeame ageean wi’oot delay,
He cheerfully did tak his way,
An’ set aboot the wark, an’ sped,
Fund ivv’ry thing, as t’ man hed sed,
Wur ivver efter seen te floorish,
T’finest gentleman i’ all the parish.
Fooaks wonder’d sare, an’ weel they meeght,
Whoor he gat all his ginnes breeght!
If it wur true, in spite ov feeame,
Te him it wor a lucky dreeam.
[The end]
John Castillo's poem: Lucky Dreeam, Or An Awd Thing Renewed
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