GOODY BLAKE, AND HARRY GILL, A TRUE STORY.
And to the ?elds his road would take,
And then her three hours work at night!
Alas! that day for Harry Gill!
But not a whit the warmer he:
Would sit, as any linnet gay.
His cheeks were red as ruddy clover,
And all who see him say tis plain,
And Harrys ?esh it fell away;
And sprang upon poor Goody Blake.
Her hut was on a cold hill-side,
Her bundle from her lap let fall;
Of waistcoats Harry has no lack,
--He hears a noise--hes all awake--
Another was on Thursday brought,
What ist that ails young Harry Gill?
Oh joy for her! when eer in winter
His voice was like the voice of three.
He has a blanket on his back,
In March, December, and in July,
The long, warm, lightsome summer-day,
And then for cold not sleep a wink.
When with her load she turned about,
Auld Ghtｔpｓ://rｅad.９9ｃsw•cｏｍoody Blake was old and poor,
And vowd that she should be detected,
When her old bones were cold and chill,
And kneeling on the sticks, she prayd
A-bed or up, by night or day;
Might see how poor a hut she had.
She prayd, her witherd hand uprearing,
Sad case it was, as you may think,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
Enough to warm her for three days.
Like a loose casement in the wind.
Of Goody Blake and Harry Gill.
Beneath the sun, beneath the moon,
To God that is the judge of all.
GOODY BLAKE, AND HARRY GILL, A TRUE STORY.
Twas all in vain, a useless matter,
Twas well enough when summer came,
Chatter, chatter, chatter still.
And coats enough to smother nine.
Tis all the same with Harry Gill;
The neighbours tell, an九_九_藏_書d tell you truly,
Stick after stick did Goody pull,
Alas! twas hardly worth the telling,
The cold, cold moon above her head,
And once, behind a rick of barley,
By the same ?re to boil their pottage,
And in that country coals are dear,
Young Harry heard what she had said,
At night, at morning, and at noon,
That evermore his teeth they chatter,
He never will be warm again.
Now Harry he had long suspected
She left her ?re, or left her bed,
That, live as long as live he may,
That day he wore a riding-coat,
A pile before-hand, wood or stick,
To seek the hedge of Harry Gill.
He watchd to seize old Goody Blake.
Now think, ye farmers all, I pray,
"O may he never more be warm!"
Young Harry was a lusty drover,
The moon was full and shining clearly,
Th九九藏書e bye-road back again to take,
"God! who art never out of hearing,
Yet never had she, well or sick,
And he on her would vengeance take.
No word to any man he utters,
And ere the Sabbath he had three.
"Poor Harry Gill is very cold."
And ?ercely by the arm he took her,
And many a rotten bough about.
Again?--on tip-toe down the hill
And made her poor old bones to ache,
Right glad was he when he beheld her:
"Tis all the same with Harry Gill;
And crisp with frost the stubble-land.
Will often live in one small cottage,
Yet still his jaws and teeth they clatter,
His face was gloom, his heart was sorrow,
And oft from his warm ?re hed go,
And any man who passd her door,
And who so stout of limb as he?
Then at her door the _canty_ dame
And there, arｅad•9９ｃｓｗ.cｏmt night, in frost and snow,
It would not pay for candle-light.
While Harry held her by the arm--
Oh! then how her old bones would shake!
And cried, "Ive caught you then at last!"
As every man who knew her says,
Thus looking out did Harry stand;
For very cold to go to bed,
He started forward with a shout,
He went complaining all the morrow
That he was cold and very chill:
Twas a hard time for Goody Blake.
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
Good duf?e grey, and ?annel ?ne;
Ill fedd she was, and thinly clad;
A-bed or up, to young or old;
And icy-cold he turned away.
And ?ercely by the arm he shook her,
Till she had ?lled her apron full.
But she, poor woman, dwelt alone.
He stood behind a bush of elder,
The winds at night had made a rout,
And now and t九*九*藏*書hen, it must be said,
All day she spun in her poor dwelling,
This trespass of old Goody Blake,
For they come far by wind and tide.
Than an old hedge to Goody Blake?
You would have said, if you had met her,
And scatterd many a lusty splinter,
Thus on her knees did Goody pray,
Her evenings then were dull and dead;
But when the ice our streams did fetter,
Then Goody, who had nothing said,
His teeth they chatter, chatter still.
He softly creeps--Tis Goody Blake,
Oh! whats the matter? whats the matter?
Shes at the hedge of Harry Gill.
And blankets were about him pinnd;
But ever to himself he mutters,
Could any thing be more alluring,
And by the arm he held her fast,
Now, when the frost was past enduring,
--This woman dwelt in Dorsetshire,
Two poor old dames, as I have known,