WILLIAM’S BWOY.
I’ll goo, an’ we’ll zet up a wicket,
An’ have a good innèns at cricket;
An’ teäke a good plounce in the water,
Where clote-leaves do grow in the zummer.
WILLIAM’S MAID.
I’ll goo, an’ we’ll plaÿ “Thread the needle”
Or “Huntèn the slipper,” or wheedle
Young Jemmy to fiddle, an’ reely
So brisk to an’ fro in the zummer.
JOHN.
An’ Jeäne. Mind you don’t come ’ithout her,
My wife is a-thinkèn about her;
At our house she’ll find she’s as welcome
’S the rwose that do blow in the zummer.
LINDENORE.
At Lindenore upon the steep,
Bezide the trees a-reachèn high,
The while their lower limbs do zweep
The river-stream a-flowèn by;
By grægle bells in beds o’ blue,
Below the tree-stems in the lew,
Calm aïr do vind the rwose-bound door,
Ov Ellen Dare o’ Lindenore.
An’ there noo foam do hiss avore
Swift bwoats, wi’ water-plowèn keels,
An’ there noo broad high-road’s a-wore
By vur-brought trav’lers’ cracklèn wheels;
