To T' Lin TRROO SHRUM°.
It's an ill soul'd bird o't faals t' es.' nest.
Not sooa mah lad wi' thee, Thu dusn't forget thi maker:and, Tho thart across the sea.
The darksome pictur of oar tahn.
Set in its lovely frame.
Is still the choicest place i' world.
Neer heed all t' 'Alters' fame.
Rivelin, Ruskin's pride o' place.
Is pratty nab to see.
An' t' cripples' hooam t' Bluebell Wood A palace seems to be. • Yet as we view these pretty scenes, Ther's thowts at back o' t' moind, Oh that you all wor here at' us;
WWI fates would lye scam koind:
There's football boots and wicket bats, An bikes all put away, Waiting foe' Tom and Dick nail Jack.
Oh, may soon come that day I Oh! may yo're memories nivver fade, Of scenes yo've left behoind, Bet may they ivver brighter grow, As your remembrance kind. A mental shak aw'll gi' thi hand, Appen, its wag thall feel.
Aar message is, God bless you all.
Throo Shevvild, Take o' Steel.
HAIRY HONSTPOKE.
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