" I SN'T this Joseph's son? " — ay, it is He;
Joseph the carpenter — same trade as me —
I thought as I'd find it — I knew it was here —
— — But my sight's getting queer.

I don't know right where as His shed must ha' stood-
But often, as I've been a-planing my wood,
I've took off my hat, just with thinking of He
— — At the same work as me,

He warn't that set up that He couldn't stoop down
And work in the country for folks in the town;
And I'll warrant He felt a bit pride, like I've done,
— — At a good job begun.

The parson he knows that I'll not make too free,
But on Sunday I feels as pleased as can be,
When I wears my clean smock, and sits in a pew,
— — And has thoughts a few.

I think of as how not the parson hissen,
As is teacher and father and shepherd o' men,
Not he knows as much of the Lord in that shed,
— — Where He earned His own bread.

And when I goes home to my missus, says she,
" Are ye wanting your key? "
For she knows my queer ways, and my love for the shed,
— — (We've been forty years wed.)

So I comes right away by mysen, with the Book,
And I turns the old pages and has a good look
For the text as I've found, as tells me as He
— — Were the same trade as me.

Why don't I mark it? Ah, many says so,
But I think I'd as lief, with your leaves, let it go:
It do seem that nice when I fall on it sudden —
— — Unexpected, you know!