A New Devorse.
Says Pug o’ Joans o’ Haworth Brah,
Ta Rodge at Wickin Crag—
Are Nelly’s tung’s a yard too long,
And, by’t mess it can wag.
It’s hell at top o’ t’earth we me,
An’ stand it I am forst;
I’d give all t’brass at I possess,
If I could get devors’d.
Then answer’d Rodge, I hev a dodge,
Az gooid a plan az onny;
A real devorse tha’ll get of course—
It willant cost a penny.
Then tell me what it iz, says Pug,
I’m hommost brocken-hearted;
We’ll go ta Keethlah Warkhaase, lad,
Where man an woife are parted.
Gooise an’ Giblet Pie.
A Kersmass song I’ll sing, me lads,
If yoh’ll bud hearken me;
An incident e Kersmass time,
E eighteen sixty-three:
Withaht a stypher e the world—
I’d scorn to tell a lie—
I dined wi a gentleman
O’ Gooise an’ giblet pie.
I’ve been e lots o’ feeds, me lads,
An hed some rare tuck-aahts;
Blooid-pudding days wi killing pigs,
Minch pies an’ thumping taahts;
But I wir’d in an reight anall,
An’ supp’d when I wor dry,
Fer I wor dining wi a gentleman
O’ gooise an’ giblet pie.
I hardly knew what ail’d me, lads,
I felt so fearful praad;
Me ears prick’d up, me collar raise,
Taards a hauf-a-yard;
Me chest stood aaht, me charley in,
Like horns stuck aaht me tie;
Fer I dined wi a gentleman
O’ gooise an’ giblet pie.
I offan think o’ t’feed, me lads,
When t’ gentleman I meet;
Bud nauther on us speiks a word
Abaht that glorious neet;
In fact, I hardly can mesel,
I feel so fearful shy;
Fer I ate a deal o’ t’roasted gooise,
And warmed his giblet pie.