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