Ah whoap it’s nowt ’at’s bad o’ me.
Darby.
Thee, Joan! neea, marry, neea sike thing.
Think bad o’ thee! ’twad be a sin.
Ah think, indeed, Ah war a feeal
Ti send oor Nell ti t’ Boordin’-skeeal.
Sike mauky feeals ez them, Ah think,
‘Ev filled her heead wi’ prahd an’ stink,
Foor, sin’ sha went, sha’s grown seea fine,
Sha caan’t deea nowt wi’oot her wine,