Dame. Un d’no, of course, is der haws gadropt—
Rip. Well, net exactly—de flint is lose gonga—awer der haws aw. Cheemeny fires awer seller haws hetsht sana sella shpringa!
Dame. Ei don husht—
Rip. Domt si, ’s is wohr—
Dame. Un husht gor nix soonsht g’shussa?
Rip. Net desmohl—awer ’s naigsht mohl—ich hob my my flint g’lawda un uf g’fixed, un nuf ons klæ demly dort im feld, un wass denksht now os ich dort g’sana hob?
Dame. Ei, wildy enda—besure.
Rip. Yaw, maner os fooftzich—so grose waura se os gens, un, well, ich uf mit der flint—
Dame. Un ich aw (raising a stick) wann du’s desmohl ferfailsh’t.
Rip. Bang!