While he did chat, or, zittèn dumb,
Injaÿ his thoughts as they did come.
An’ Jimmy, wi’ his crowd below
His chin, did dreve his nimble bow
In tuèns vor to meäke us spring
A-reelèn, or in zongs to zing,
An’ there, between the dark an’ light,
Zot Poll by Willy’s zide at night
A-whisp’rèn, while her eyes did zwim
In jaÿ avore the twilight dim;
An’ when (to know if she wer near)
Aunt call’d, did cry, “Ees, mother; here.”
No, no; I woulden gi’e thee thanks
Vor fine white walls an’ vloors o’ planks,
Nor doors a-païnted up so fine.
If I’d a wold grey house o’ mine,
Gi’e me vor all it should be small,
A stwonèn pworch instead ō’t all.
FARMER’S SONS.
Ov all the chaps a-burnt so brown
By zunny hills an’ hollors,
Ov all the whindlèn chaps in town
Wi’ backs so weak as rollers,
There’s narn that’s half so light o’ heart,
(I’ll bet, if thou’t zay “done,” min,)
An’ narn that’s half so strong an’ smart,
’S a merry farmer’s son, min.
He’ll fling a stwone so true’s a shot,
He’ll jump so light’s a cat;
He’ll heave a waïght up that would squot
