[From Manx Melodies, 1922]
TIRED an' oul' an' wore
An' a lif' at these wans when I'm took
But the Lord will send in His own good time,
That never His poor forsook.
The walls is goin' roun'
When I rise for to try for to dhress,
An' I'm forced to sit by the side of the bed
An' wait for the house to take ress !
I was middlin' smart for all
Till the time when I fell in the Glen,
Goin' up to supper the pigs, the sowles !
An' the leg was bruk at me then.
The cool', the coul', an' the pain !
An' the hollerin' out for Crowe;
An' the thought of the craythurs wantin' their mate,
An' it spilt at me all in the snow !
But Crowe came by at las',
Goin' home from the Ramsey mart,
" Them pigs will be wantin' their mate," I said,
When they got me home on the cart.
So that's the way it iss,
An' I'll never be sthrayin' far;
But we mus' have somethin' to keep us down,
The stubborn an' proud we are.
This wumman is good to me, too,
An' I'm gettin' the bes' thass in,
She was rared at me, an' me darter's chile,
An' married on Dicky-the-Win'.
I'm tired an' oul' an' done!
Nor able to stan' or to roam,
But it's only to wait for the Lord's own time,
An' He will be taking me Home.