Zickness
JENNY AND THOMAS
JENNY
Thomas, b'ye any better? How d'ye veel?
THOMAS
No. Not noo better; I be very ill,
Aye, bad indeed.
JENNY
Oh! I be very zorry
You can't get better. What can I do vor ye?
THOMAS
Oh! I do veel a draught here. Will ye try
To shut the ceäsement? But he's all awry.
JENNY
There. I've a-got below a bit o' chick
That Mis'ess Lee've a-zent ye down to pick.
THOMAS
God bless her. I do hope He'll meäke amends
To Mis'ess Lee an' all my other friends,
But I can't eat a bit o't. I could drink
A little drop o' zome'hat, I do think.
JENNY
An' have ye had a nap since I wer here?
THOMAS
No, I can't sleep, an' sha'n't sleep, I do fear,
Till I do sleep my last.
JENNY
Oh! don't talk zoo.
Do hurt me zoo I do n' know what to do,
To hear ye talk lik' that. If you should die,
What should we do, your little maid and I?
THOMAS
Why trust in God, vor He thought fit to call
My Father hwome vrom me when I wer small,
But then He never let me starve. He stood
In Father's pleäce an' voun' me what wer good;
An' zoo if I do die, when I be dead,
He'll know you be vorlorn an' vind ye bread.
JENNY
But what is bread, an' what is liven on
In sorrow, when woone's only staÿè's a-gone?
THOMAS
Ah. If I be your staÿè while I be strong,
I sha'n't be zoo, d'ye know, not very long;
Vor years o' work, an' het, an' cwold, an ceäre
Do meäke the wold a good deal worse vor wear,
An' when our work's a-done, who'll ceäre about us?
If we do die, why, vo'k can do 'ithout us.
JENNY
Well, trust in God yourzelf, an' He won't let ye
Be straiten'd vor your bread. He won't vorget ye.
THOMAS
I don't want much. If all the pleäce wer mine,
Why, I should die an' leäve it all behine,
An' bags o' money at the end o' time
Can't buy a soul, nor meäke amends vor crime.
The men wi' wealth mus' lose it at their death,
The poor do gi'e up little but their breath.
But bring the Bible here, good soul, an' vind
A word or two o' God's to heal my mind.
A-readen there, dry eyes be like to cry,
An' weepen woones, lik' ours, mid soon be dry.
JENNY
Oh! I do praÿè that God won't teäke ye vrom us.
I hope tomorrow you'll be better, Thomas.
JENNY
Thomas, b'ye any better? How d'ye veel?
THOMAS
No. Not noo better; I be very ill,
Aye, bad indeed.
JENNY
Oh! I be very zorry
You can't get better. What can I do vor ye?
THOMAS
Oh! I do veel a draught here. Will ye try
To shut the ceäsement? But he's all awry.
JENNY
There. I've a-got below a bit o' chick
That Mis'ess Lee've a-zent ye down to pick.
THOMAS
God bless her. I do hope He'll meäke amends
To Mis'ess Lee an' all my other friends,
But I can't eat a bit o't. I could drink
A little drop o' zome'hat, I do think.
JENNY
An' have ye had a nap since I wer here?
THOMAS
No, I can't sleep, an' sha'n't sleep, I do fear,
Till I do sleep my last.
JENNY
Oh! don't talk zoo.
Do hurt me zoo I do n' know what to do,
To hear ye talk lik' that. If you should die,
What should we do, your little maid and I?
THOMAS
Why trust in God, vor He thought fit to call
My Father hwome vrom me when I wer small,
But then He never let me starve. He stood
In Father's pleäce an' voun' me what wer good;
An' zoo if I do die, when I be dead,
He'll know you be vorlorn an' vind ye bread.
JENNY
But what is bread, an' what is liven on
In sorrow, when woone's only staÿè's a-gone?
THOMAS
Ah. If I be your staÿè while I be strong,
I sha'n't be zoo, d'ye know, not very long;
Vor years o' work, an' het, an' cwold, an ceäre
Do meäke the wold a good deal worse vor wear,
An' when our work's a-done, who'll ceäre about us?
If we do die, why, vo'k can do 'ithout us.
JENNY
Well, trust in God yourzelf, an' He won't let ye
Be straiten'd vor your bread. He won't vorget ye.
THOMAS
I don't want much. If all the pleäce wer mine,
Why, I should die an' leäve it all behine,
An' bags o' money at the end o' time
Can't buy a soul, nor meäke amends vor crime.
The men wi' wealth mus' lose it at their death,
The poor do gi'e up little but their breath.
But bring the Bible here, good soul, an' vind
A word or two o' God's to heal my mind.
A-readen there, dry eyes be like to cry,
An' weepen woones, lik' ours, mid soon be dry.
JENNY
Oh! I do praÿè that God won't teäke ye vrom us.
I hope tomorrow you'll be better, Thomas.
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