When we get to some spot where its dry."
Leet-hearted they trotted away,
An' aw follow'd, coss 'twur i' mi rooad;
But aw thowt awd nee'er seen sich a day—
It worn't fit ta be aght for a tooad.
Sooin th' big en agean slipt away,
An' sam'd summat else aght o'th' muck,
An' he cried aght, "Luk here, Bill! to-day
Arn't we blest wi' a seet o' gooid luck?
Here's a apple! an' th' mooast on it's saand: