At back-end o' the year,
Wi' ferret, bag an' snickle,(3)
Church bells have catched my ear.
"Thou's takken t' road to Hell, lad,
Wheer t' pit-fire's bumin' slow;"
That's what yon bells kept shoutin' out
At Kirkby Overblow.

But now I'm owd an' bed-fast,
I ommost like their sound,
Ringin' so clear i' t' star-leet
Across the frozzen ground.
I niver mell on(4) parsons,
There ain't a prayer I know;
But prayer an' sarmon's i' yon bells
O' Kirkby Overblow.

Six boards o' gooid stout ellum
Is what I'll want to-morn;
Then lay me low i' t' church-yard
Aneath t' owd crooked thorn.
I'll have no funeral sarvice
When I'm browt down below,
But let 'em touzle t' bells like mad
At Kirkby Overblow.

I don't know wheer I'm boun' for,
It hardlins can be Heaven;
I've sinned more sins nor most men
'Twixt one an' seven-seven.