They've a reight to luk daan at th' hard workers,
An' curl up their nooas as they pass.
It's a poor sooart o' life to be leadin,
To be curlin an' partin ther hair;
An' seekin one's own fun and pleasure,
Niver thinkin ha others mun fare.
It's all varry weel to be spendin
Ther time at a hunt or a ball,
But if th' workers war huntin an' doncin,
Whativer wad come on us all?