Not made a bit of muss.
But I’s going home to-morrow
Cause, cause Grandma says I must.
A CHILD’S ALMANAC
By J. W. Foley
My mamma says ’at w’en it rains
’Eyre washin’ Heaven’s window-panes,
An’ careless angels ’ist do fill
’Eir pails too full an’ ’atway spill
Some water down on us. ’At’s w’y