(1) Oh! here’s a bwoy a-comèn. Here, my lad,
Dost know vor a’r a speäde, that can be had?
(B) At father’s, (1) Well, where’s that? (Bwoy) At Sam’el Riddick’s.
(1) Well run, an’ ax vor woone. Fling up your heels,
An’ mind: a speäde to dig out theäsem wheels,
An’ hook to cut a little lock o’ widdicks.
(3) Why, we shall want zix ho’ses, or a dozen,
To pull the waggon out, wi’ all theäse vuzzen.
(1) Well, we mus’ lighten en; come, Jeämes, then, hop
Upon the lwoad, an’ jus’ fling off the top.
(2) If I can clim’ en; but ’tis my consaït,
That I shall overzet en wi’ my waïght.
(1) You overzet en! No, Jeämes, he won’t vall.
The lwoad’s a-built so firm as any wall.
(2) Here! lend a hand or shoulder vor my knee
Or voot. I’ll scramble to the top an’ zee
What I can do. Well, here I be, among
The fakkets, vor a bit, but not vor long.
Heigh, George! Ha! ha! Why this wull never stand.
Your firm ’s a wall, is all so loose as zand;
’Tis all a-come to pieces. Oh! Teäke ceäre!
Ho! I’m a-vallèn, vuzz an’ all! Haë! There!
(1) Lo’k there, thik fellor is a-vell lik’ lead.
An’ half the fuzzen wi ’n, heels over head!
There’s all the vuzz a-lyèn lik’ a staddle,
An’ he a-deäb’d wi’ mud. Oh! Here’s a caddle!
(3) An’ zoo you soon got down zome vuzzen, Jimmy.
(2) Ees, I do know ’tis down, I brought it wi’ me.
(3) Your lwoad, George, wer a rather slick-built thing,
But there, ’twer prickly vor the hands! Did sting?
