Classic Poem

I' snow is witherin' off'n th' gress
Lad, should I tell thee summat?
I' snow is witherin' off'n th' gress
An' mist is suckin' at th' spots o' snow,
An' ower a' the thaw an' mess
There's a moon, full blow
Lad, but I'm tellin' thee summat!

Tha's bin snowed up i' this cottage wi' me —
'Ark, tha'rt for hearin' summat!
Tha's bin snowed up i' this cottage wi' me
While t' clocks 'as a' run down an' stopped,
An' t' short days goin' unknown ter thee
Unbeknown has dropped.
Yi, but I'm tellin' thee summat

How many days dost think has gone?
Now, lad, I'm axin' thee summat
How many days dost think has gone?
How many times has t' candle-light shone
On thy face as tha got more white an' wan?
— Seven days, my lad, or none!
Aren't ter hearin' summat?

Tha come ter say good-bye ter me,
Tha wert frit o' summat.
Tha come ter ha' finished an' done wi' me
An' off to a gel as wor younger than me,
An' fresh an' more nicer for marryin' wi' —
Yi, but tha'rt frit o' summat

Ah wunna kiss thee, tha trembles so!
Tha'rt daunted, or summat.
Tha arena very flig ter go.
Dost want me ter want thee again? Nay though,
There's hardly owt left o' thee; get up an' go!
Or dear o' me, say summat.

Tha wanted ter leave me that bad, tha knows!
Doesn't ter know it?
But tha wanted me more ter want thee, so's
Tha could let thy very soul out. A man
Like thee can't rest till his last spunk goes
Out of 'im into a woman as can
Draw it out of 'im. Did ter know it?

Tha thought tha wanted a little wench,
Ay, lad, I'll tell thee thy mind.
Tha thought tha wanted a little wench
As 'ud make thee a wife an' look up ter thee.
As 'ud wince when tha touched 'er close, an' blench
An' lie frightened ter death under thee.
She worn't hard ter find.

Tha thought tha wanted ter be rid o' me.
'Appen tha did, an' a'.
Tha thought tha wanted ter marry an' see
If ter couldna be master an' th' woman's boss.
Tha'd need a woman different from me,
An' tha knowed it; ay, yet tha comes across
Ter say good-bye! an' a'

I tell thee tha won't be satisfied,
Tha might as well listen, tha knows.
I tell thee tha won't be satisfied
Till a woman has drawn the last last drop
O' thy spunk, an' tha'rt empty an' mortified.
Empty an' empty from bottom to top.
It's true, tha knows.

Tha'rt one o' th' men as has got to drain
— An' I've loved thee for it,
Their blood in a woman, to the very last vein.
Tha must , though tha tries ter get away.
Tha wants it, and everything else is in vain.
An' a woman like me loves thee for it.

Maun tha cling to the wa' as tha stan's?
Ay, an' tha maun.
An' tha looks at me, an' tha understan's.
Yi, tha can go. Tha hates me now.
But tha'lt come again. Because when a man's
Not finished, he hasn't, no matter how.
Go then, sin' tha maun.

Tha come ter say good-bye ter me.
Now go then, now then go.
It's ta'en thee seven days ter say it ter me.
Now go an' marry that wench, an' see
How long it'll be afore tha'lt be
Weary an' sick o' the likes o' she,
An' hankerin' for me But go!

A woman's man tha art, ma lad,
But it's my sort o' woman.
Go then, tha'lt ha'e no peace till ter's had
A go at t'other, for I'm a bad
Sort o' woman for any lad.
— Ay, it's a rum un!