Faith and trath then, I b’leve, in ten parishes round,

Sickey roage, sichey vellan, es nat to ba found!

Whot’s tha fussing, un Gracey! long wetha, cheel vean?

A fussing aketha! od splet es ould braeane!

Our Martin’s cum’d hum, cheeld, so drunk as a beast,

So cross as the gallish from Perranzan veast,

A kicking, a tottering, a cussin, and swearing,

So hard as the stomses a tarving and tearing.

Naver mind et, un Gracey!—cheeld, put en to bed:

Aal slepe ale the lecker away from hes head.

I wudden go neast an to fang the King’s crown;

For a swears, ef I speke t’un, aal cleave my skull down.

Thee never in aal thy born days, fath and shoar,

Dedst behould sickey mazegerry pattick afore.

Why a scatt all to midjans and jouds for the nons

A cloam buzza of scale milk about on the scons;

And a catch’d up a shoul for to steve me outright;

And I run’d away ready to fainty for fright.

Loard! tell ma, un Mally! what shall I do by an—

For zountikins! death! I’m affeared to go nigh an.

I know what I’d gee’n, ef sa bee ’twor my caze:

I’d scatt the ould chacks an, I’d trem an, un Grace!

I’m affear’d a ma life to go nigh the ould vellan,

Else, please father, I bleve I should parfectly kell an,

But I’ll never no more be so bauld and abus’d:

My arms here like bazam the roage have abruis’d!

I made for hes supper a muggetty pye;

But a shant clunk a croom ate, I wish a may die!

I tould thee, afore that the job was adone,

That theedst find out tha odds ate so sure as a gun:

But thee wusent hark to me for doubting, for why,

Becase thee didst know en much better than I?

But I know’d the trem aan before thee hads got an,

And tould thee a mashes of stories about an.

But thee answered so toytish, and skrink’d up tha noze,

A gissing ’twas gret stramming lyes I suppoze.

There’s one of es pranks I shall always remembar,

(’Twill be dree years agon come the ighth of Novembar),

I’d two purty young mabyers as eyes cou’d behould,

So fat as the butter, just ighteen weeks ould:

They were picking about in town-place for meat:

So I hove down some pellase among mon to eat;

When who but your man cum’d a tottering along,

So drunk that I thoft he wud fale in the dung:

Aleft fale hes hoggan-bag jest by the door;

So I caal’d to the man (as one would to be sure)

Says I: “Martin! dust hire, cheeld? cum take up tha bag;”

“Arra, (sezza) for what art a caleing me dog!”

An a run’d forth, tha roage, an nar better nar wus,

Nact the mabyers both stef with a geart maur of fusse.

Like anow ef I eadnt got hasty’s away,

He’d adone as a ded by Jan Rose t’other day;

When a got in his tantrums, a wilful ould devil,

And slam’d the poor soal in the head with a kebbal.

When the cyder is run’d away every drap,

’Tis too late to be thinkene of plugging the tap:

And marriage must go as the Loard doth ordain:

Yet ef I’d know’d the coose aan, un Mally, cheel vean?

Ef I’d known the coose aan but nine weeks ago

I’d never ha had the ould vellan, I know.

But a vow’d and a swared that ef I’d be hes wife,

I never should want all the days of my life;

And a broft me a nakin and corn-save from Preen—

En ma conscience, thoft I, I shall live like a Queen!

But tes plagy provoking, adsplet hes ould head!

To be pooted and slopt so! I wish a were dead!

Why a spent half hes fangings last Saturday night:

Like anow, by this time, tes gone every dyte.

But I’ll tame the ould deval afore et es long—

Ef I caant wa ma vistes I will wa ma tonge!