32
OWD ROÄ
Then ’e tummled up stairs, fur I ’eärd ’im, as if ’e’d ’a brokken ’is neck,
An’ I’d cleär forgot, little Dicky, thy chaumber door wouldn’t sneck;19
An’ I’d cleär forgot, little Dicky, thy chaumber door wouldn’t sneck;19
An’ I slep’ i’ my chair ageän wi’ my hairm hingin’ down to the floor,
An’ I thowt it was Roäver a-tuggin’ an’ tearin’ me wuss nor afoor,
An’ I thowt it was Roäver a-tuggin’ an’ tearin’ me wuss nor afoor,
An’ I thowt ’at I kick’d ’im ageän, but I kick’d thy Moother istead.
‘What arta snorin’ theere fur? the house is afire,’ she said.
‘What arta snorin’ theere fur? the house is afire,’ she said.
Thy Moother ’ed beän a-naggin’ about the gell o’ the farm,
She offens ’ud spy summut wrong when there warn’t not a mossel o’ harm;
She offens ’ud spy summut wrong when there warn’t not a mossel o’ harm;
