An’ he keept an’ oald pūltess of o’ mak’s upon’t,[18]
Till Joe an’ his thūmb warn’t nice to cū’ nār.
It was o’ nèa use-nūt a crūmb dūd he mend!
An’ t’ parson co’ tūll him to pray an’ to read,
An’ whisper, “I say, Jwosep’! think o’ thy end”—
But he wadn’t—he thowte of a doctor asteed.
An’ tul’t’ doctor he dreàv iv his car—thumb an’ o’—
An’ t’ doctor said, “Well, my lad—off this mūn cūm!”
An’ he haggelt an’ cot at his pultess-bleach’t po’,
Till Joe was weel shot of his mūrderin’ thumb.