Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 93, July 23, 1887.

No Amateur Reciter can consider himself fully equipped for the Drawing-room or Platform unless he is furnished with at least one poem in dialect, and Mr. Punch has accordingly commissioned from his Poet a recitation couched in the well-known vernacular of Loompshire. Loompshire, it need hardly be explained, is the county where most of the stage-rustics come from. The author of this little poem ventures to hope that philologists will find much deserving of careful study in some of the local expressions and provincialisms, while he can guarantee their entire authenticity, as they are mostly of his own invention. The phraseology is strictly copyright and must not be infringed, except by a dignitary of archiepiscopal rank for a charitable purpose. As for the piece itself, it is founded on a little anecdote related to the poet, which he believes has not hitherto seen the light in a metrical form. It has a good old-fashioned double title, viz:—
Begin by explaining the situation, thus:— This is supposed to be spoken by a Loompshire cottager, who overhears a stranger admiring the goodly proportions of his goose, —then start with as broad a drawl as you can assume. Remember that to be effective you must be unintelligible.
Bewty, I 'ears ya carl her?—aye, ya niver spoöke truthfuller wurrëd!
Rammack t' coontry side ovver, an ya weänt see no foiner burrëd!
Passon he axed ma to sell her—but I towld him, Beänt o' naw use—
She's as mooch of a Chris'en as moäst, I sez, if she's nobbut a guse!
Coom, then!
( This coaxingly, to an imaginary bird—be careful not to seem to make any invidious distinctions among your audience. )
... Naäy, but she wunna! she's gotten a wull of her oän!
Looök at the heye of her,—pink an' greëy, loike t'fire in a hopal stoän!
Howsiver she sims sa hinnercent-loike, she's a follerin' arl I saäy: