Hi-i-i! What ye doin’ t’ my hand!
I’ve nussed ye sence ye fust was dropped—
Ye don’t remember, dew ye?
I’ve heerd ye blat a many times
An’ come a-runnin’ tew ye.
Yew didn’t hev yer mother long—
I went t’ the crick ter fetch ’er—
“Four Mile” was up, an’ I’s afraid
The flood might prob’ly ketch ’er.
It hed, fer when she’d tried ter cross