An' ther's telegraff poles all o'th' edge o'th' highways,
Whear grew bonny green trees i' thi gronfayther's days.
We're teld to be thankful for blessin's 'ats sent,
An' aw hooap 'at tha'll allus be blessed wi content:
Tha mun mak th' best tha con o' this world wol tha stays,
But aw wish tha'd been born i' thi gronfayther's days.
Mose Hart's Twelvth Mess.
'Holloa! whear ta for, Dick? Tha'rt donned up fearful grand.'
'Nay, aw nobbut wish aw knew whear aw wor, but aw connot tell for th' life on me; but tha can happen put me into th' end, for awm seekin "Th' Fiddle Brig an' Blow Pipe Music Saloon," for aw've getten two tickets for a grand consart 'at's gooin to be gien bi some Morpheus Musical Society, an' aw've rammel'd abaat for a gooid clock haar, an' awm blow'd if aw can find th' shop.'