Laps up i’ lal bundles, an’ she’s lal aneuf;

There’s nowte aboot Dinah were better away

But her comical[2] ower-wūrd “M’appen I may.”

“M’appen I may,” it’s still, “m’appen I may.”

Whativer yan wants yan gits “m’appen I may!”

An’ it shaps to be smittal; whoariver I gang,

I can’t tell a stwory—I can’t sing a sang—

I can’t hod a crack, nay!—I can’t read nor pray

Widout bringin’ in her dang’t “M’appen I may.”

“M’appen I may,” it cūms, “m’appen I may;”