An’ in his shoes he had girt buckles,
An’ breeches button’d round his huckles;
An’ he zung wi’ pride,
By’s wold meäre’s zide,
“I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger,
An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger;
I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir
Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.”
An’ he would work,—an’ lwoad, an’ shoot,
An’ spur his heaps o’ dung or zoot;
Or car out haÿ, to sar his vew
Milch cows in corners dry an’ lew;
Or dreve a zyve, or work a pick,
To pitch or meäke his little rick;
Or thatch en up wi’ straw or zedge,
Or stop a shard, or gap, in hedge;
An’ he work’d an’ flung
His eärms, an’ zung
“I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger,
An’ I can feäce a friend or stranger;
I’ve a vist vor friends, an’ I’ll vind a peäir
Vor the vu’st that do meddle wi’ me or my meare.”
An’ when his meäre an’ he’d a-done
Their work, an’ tired ev’ry bwone,
He zot avore the vire, to spend
His evenèn wi’ his wife or friend;
An’ wi’ his lags out-stratch’d vor rest,
An’ woone hand in his wes’coat breast,
While burnèn sticks did hiss an’ crack,
An’ fleämes did bleäzy up the back,
There he zung so proud
In a bakky cloud,
“I’m out o’ debt an’ out o’ danger,
