A neighbor chap saw th' state o' things,
An' pitied ther distress,
An' begg'd em not to be soa sour
Abaht soa sweet a mess;
"An' tha'd be sour," th' owd grocer sed,
"If th' job wor thine owd lad,
An' somdy wanted thee to pay
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,
An' send th' young brood away.
This didn't suit th' young lads a bit,—
They didn't mean to stop,
They felt detarmin'd that they'd get
Another traitle sop.
They tried all ways but th' chap stood firm,
They couldn't get a lick,
An' some o'th' boldest gate a taste
O'th neighbor's walkin stick.
At last one said, "I know a plan
If we can scheme to do it,
We'll knock one daan bang into th' dolt,
An' let him roll reight throo it;"
"Agreed! agreed!" they all replied,
"An here comes little Jack,
He's foorced to pass cloise up this side,
We'll do it in a crack."
Poor Jack wor rayther short, an' came
Just like a suckin duck;
He little dream'd at th' sweets o' life
Wod ivver be his luck.
But daan they shoved him, an' he roll'd
Heead first bang into th' mess,
An' aght he coom a woeful seet,
As yo may easy guess.