Luc. An' what be yèu a-tullin' o', wai yur vurbèedin' an' yur 'àngin'? Thiki man's yo-ur ùzban, is ur?
Ner. You're rait, Missis, an aa'm joost his woif.
Luc. That's a lie then; 'tis me that's the rail weiv o' un; an eef 'ee ought vur to be a'ànged, why 'tis me that ought vur to 'ave it adeud.
Ner. Me; aa can mak nowt o' that soort o' talk.
Luc. I do tul 'ee 'ow that I be 'is weiv.
Ner. His woif?
Luc. Ees fie!
Ner. Aa tell ye once more, that it's me at's joost that.
Luc. An' I vows an' declares as 'ow tez me, my own zul.
Ner. 'Twere fowr yeer agone 'at he wed me.