With a bitter, swarthy skin,
To ha’ ’ticed a lad o’ twenty-five
An’ ’im to have been took in!
A widow of forty-five
As has sludged like a horse all her life,
Till ’er’s tough as whit-leather, to slive
Atween a lad an’ ’is wife!
A widow of forty-five. [p. xlv]
A tough old otchel wi’ long
Witch teeth, an’ ’er black hawk-eyes as I’ve