JEALOUSY
On Zunday marn dro’ varmer’s wheat
I zeed the print and track o’ veet:
If I’d a had a rook-gun then
They vaur veet would’n a walked again.
Two on ’em—they o’ the larger zize—
I coulden praperly reckernize.
Two wer the purty-printed veet
O’ Molly—zo valse as she be sweet.
I hadn’t no bird-gun: zo it fell
As I maun laugh—ho, ho!—and tell
Here in a pub at the end o’ the street
O’ the winding—ha! ha!—o’ they vaur veet.
But may the zoul o’ him as wore
They hob-nails roast vor evermore;
And the veet wi’ the instep’s purty curve
May both on ’em get what um deserve!