Ten things an’ yan;
Here five an’ five for Betty Banks,
An’ yan for Betty’s man.
“Lord preserve oor wits—sec as they ūrr,” says I. “I mūn be gā’n wrang i’ my heid when I’ve teàn till mackin’ sangs!” But t’ queerest break was ’at I dūddn’t mak’ them—they meàd thersel’s—an’ they meàd me sing them an’ o’, whedder I wad or nūt—an’ off I went ageàn till a different teùn—
Says Betty—says she; says Betty till me—
“If owte thou contrives to forgit,
“I’ll reckon thè’ daizter an’ dafter,” says she,
“Nor iver I’ve reckon’t thè’ yit.”
I’s daizter an’ dafter nor iver, she’ll say,
An’ marry, she willn’t say wrang!