The Collier's Wife

Somebody's knockin' at th' door

Mother, come down an' see!

— I's think it's nobbut, a beggar;

Say I'm busy.

It's not a beggar, mother; hark

How 'ard 'e knocks!

— Eh, tha'rt a mard-arsed kid,

'E'll gie thee socks!

Shout an' ax what 'e wants,

I canna come down.

— 'E says, is it Arthur Holliday's?

— Say Yes, tha clown.

'E says: Tell your mother as 'er mester's

Got hurt i' th' pit — —

What? Oh my Sirs, 'e never says that,

That's not it!

Come out o' th' way an' let me see!

Eh, there's no peace!

An' stop thy scraightin', childt,

Do shut thy face!

" Your mester's 'ad a accident

An' they ta'ein' 'im i' th' ambulance

Ter Nottingham. " — Eh dear o' me,

If 'e's not a man for mischance!

Wheer's 'e hurt this time, lad?

— I dunna know,

They on'y towd me it wor bad —

It would be so!

Out o' my way, childt! dear o' me, wheer

'Ave I put 'is clean stockin's an' shirt?

Goodness knows if they'll be able

To take off 'is pit-dirt!

An' what a moan 'e'll make! there niver

Was such a man for a fuss

If anything ailed 'im; at any rate

I shan't 'ave 'im to nuss.

I do 'ope as it's not so very bad!

Eh, what a shame it seems

As some should ha'e hardly a smite o' trouble

An' others 'as reams!

It's a shame as 'e should be knocked about

Like this, I'm sure it is!

'E's 'ad twenty accidents, if 'e's 'ad one;

Owt bad, an' it's his!

There's one thing, we s'll 'ave a peaceful 'ouse f'r a bit,

Thank heaven for a peaceful house!

An' there's compensation, sin' it's accident.

An' club-money — I won't growse.

An' a fork an' a spoon 'e'll want — an' what else?

I s'll never catch that train!

What a traipse it is, if a man gets hurt!

I sh'd think 'e'll get right again.

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