Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/510

 Hoarded, barter'd, bought, and sold, Stolen, borrow'd, squander'd, doled: Spurn'd by the young, but hugg'd by the old To the very verge of the churchyard mould; Price of many a crime untold: Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold! Good or bad a thousand-fold! How widely its agencies vary— To save—to ruin—to curse—to bless— As even its minted coins express, Now stamp'd with the image of Good Queen Bess, And now of a bloody Mary.

Northern Farmer: New Style

(See page 77)

Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaäy, Proputty, proputty, proputty—that's what I 'ears 'em saäy. Proputty, proputty, proputty—Sam, thou's an ass for thy paäins, Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor in all thy braäins.

Me an' thy muther, Sammy, 'as beän a-talkin' o' thee; Thou's beän talkin' to muther, an' she beän a tellin' it me. Thou'll not marry for munny—thou's sweet upo' parson's lass— Noä—thou'll marry for luvv—an' we boäth on us thinks tha an ass.