Th' best o' folk need'n bidin' wi' a bit, sometimes.
See yo, tae this cheer; it 's as chep sittin' as stonnin', for ought aw know.
Aw'll find you some gradely good stuff [oat cake]; an' it 's a deael howsomer [wholesomer] nor loaf, too, mind yo.
It 's some o' a cowd neet. Meh nose fair sweats again.
Thee 'rt noan one o' th' warst mak' o' folk, as rough as t' art.
"That 's just reet," as Ab' o' Pinders said when his woife bote her tung i' two.
Owd woman, yo desarv'n a cumfutabble sattle'ment i' th' top shop [heaven] when yo de'en.
By th' mass, iv aw're heer a bit moor, aw'd mae some rickin i' this cawve-cote [some noise like springing a watchman's rattle in this calf-house] too.
Whay, mon yo'dd'n fair sink into a deead sleep, an fair dee i' th' spell, iv one didn't wakkin yo up a bit neaw and then.
Aw'd goo as far as owther graiss grew, or waytur run, afore aw'd live amoon sich doins.
By Guy, he's hardly wit enof to keep fro' runnin' again waytur.
Thi' dd'n just getten a yure o' th' owd dog into 'em; an' they sit afore th' fire, as quiet, to look at, as two pot dolls.
Up [chimbley] wi' tho; soot's good for th' bally-wurch; an' it'll be a bit ov an' eawt for tho.
