(2) The road, George, no. There’s na’r a road. That’s wrong.
If we’d a road, we mid ha’ got along.
(1) Noo road! Ees ’tis, the road that we do goo.
(2) Do goo, George, no. The pleäce we can’t get drough.
(1) Well, there, the vu’st lwoad we ’ve a-haul’d to day
Is here a-stoodèd in theäse bed o’ clay.
Here’s rotten groun’! an’ how the wheels do cut!
The little woone’s a-zunk up to the nut.
(3) An’ yeet this rotten groun’ don’t reach a lug.
(1) Well, come, then, gi’e the plow another tug.
(2) They meäres wull never pull the waggon out,
A-lwoaded, an a-stoodèd in thik rout.
(3) We’ll try. Come, Smiler, come! C’ up, Whitevoot, gee!
(2) White-voot wi’ lags all over mud! Hee! Hee!
(3) ’Twoon’t wag. We shall but snap our gear,
An’ overstraïn the meäres. ’Twoon’t wag, ’tis clear.
(1) That’s your work, William. No, in coo’se, ’twoon’t wag.
Why did ye drēve en into theäse here quag?
The vore-wheels be a-zunk above the nuts.
(3) What then? I coulden leäve the beäten track,
To turn the waggon over on the back
Ov woone o’ theäsem wheel-high emmet-butts.
If you be sich a drēver, an’ do know’t,
You drēve the plow, then; but you’ll overdrow ’t.
(1) I drēve the plow, indeed! Oh! ees, what, now
The wheels woont wag, then, I mid drēve the plow!
We’d better dig away the groun’ below
The wheels. (2) There’s na’r a speäde to dig wi’.
(1) An’ teäke an’ cut a lock o’ frith, an’ drow
Upon the clay. (2) Nor hook to cut a twig wi’.
