Ayder fairer or fonter wi’ me?
Fwoke tel’t mé thoo com of a slape, sneeky breed;—
’At a tungue sec as thine seldom hung iv a heid;—
’At twice i’ three times when thoo said owte, thoo leed;
But I fanciet that hardly cūd be.
For ’Speàtry, I kent, was a hard-spocken pleàce,
An’ I thowte ’at, may-hap, thū’d been wrang’t aboot Greàce;—
God help mé!—I thowte I read t’ truth i’ thy feàce,
When thoo swore thoo cared only for me.
We’re silly, us lasses—We’re maizlins, I know!—