I'th nook o'th' window ledge,
He saw th' back booan wor sticken aght,
Like th' thin end ov a wedge;
It luk'd like an' owd blanket
Hung ovver th' winterhedge.
His mother rooar'd an' th' wimmen sigh'd,
But th' chaps did nowt but laff;
Poor Billy he could hardly bide,
To sit an' hear ther chaff—
Then up he jumped, an' off he run,