Owd Betty's Advice

So Mary, lass, tha'rt bahn to wed It mornin', we young Blacksmith Ned, An' though it maks thi mother sad, It's like to be; I've nowt ageean yond dacent lad, No more ner thee.

Bud let me tell tha what ta due, For my advise might help tha thru; Be kind, and to thi husband true, An' I'll be bun Tha'll nivver hev a day ta rue For owt that's done.

Nah, try to keep thi former knack, An' du thi weshin' in a crack, Bud don't be flaid to bend thi back, Tha'll nobbut sweeat; So try an' hev a bit o' tack, An' du it neeat.

Be sure tha keeps fra bein' a flirt, An' pride thysel i' bein' alert,— An' mind ta mend thi husband's shirt, An' keep it cleean; It wod thi poor owd mother hurt, If tha wur meean.

Don't kal abaht like monny a wun, Then hev to broil, an' sweeat, an' run; Bud alus hev thi dinner done Withaht a mooild; If it's nobbut meil, lass, set it on, An' hev it boiled.

Now Mary, I've no more ta say— Tha gets thi choice an' tak thi way; An' if tha leets to rue, I pray, Don't blame thi mother: I wish yeh monny a happy day Wi wun another.