An' all th' lads cluther raand him i' glee,
An' tell him to cut aght o'th seet;
But he clutches it fast,—an' nah see
Ha he's threedin his way along th' street,
Till he comes to that varry same man,
An' he touches him gently o'th' back,
An' he tells him as weel as he can,
'At he fancies he's made a mistak.
An' th' chap luks at that poor honest lad,
With his little naked feet, as he stands,