For what tha'd niver had.
"Th' fault isn't mine," said th' cart driver
"My duty's done I hope?
I've brought him traitle, thear it is,
An' he mun sam it up."
Soa th' neighbor left em to thersen,
He'd nowt noa moor to say,
But went to guard what ther wor left,
And send th' young brood away:
This didn't suit th' young lads a bit,