It isn't so wi' Me

Bright seem the days when I wor young Fra thought, and care, and sorrow free; As wild waves rippled i' the sun, Rolled gaily on, 'twor so wi' me.

More bright the flowers when I wor young, More sweet the birds sang on the tree; While pleasure and contentment flung Her smiles on them, and so wi' me.

The naked truth I told when young, Though tempted wi' hypocrisy; Though some embraced, from it I sprang, An' said it isn't so wi' me.

I saw the canting jibs when young, Of saintly, sulky misery; Yet poked I melancholy's ribs, And said it isn't so wi' me.

Though monny a stone when I wor young, Is strong upon my memory— I threw when young an' hed 'em flung; If they forgive, 'tis so wi' me.

Could money buy o' Nature's mart, Again our brightest days to see; Ther's monny a wun wod pawn the shirt, Or else they'd buy—and so wi' me.

Yet after all I oft look back, Without a pang o' days gone past, An' hope all t'wrong I did when young, May be forgi'n to me at last.