Nut ’at Ah care aboot t’ fond lass,
Neea mair ’an this—it taks mah brass,
An’ wiv her fine lang labbering tail,
Sha’ll git her fathther inti jail.
Joan.
Whya, Darby, bud thoo knaws ther ’s t’ Squire,
An’ he, mayhap, will Nell admire,
An’ efter all ther noise an’ strife,
Thoo knaws t’ young Squire he wants a weyfe.
Then let ’s be seear ti mak her smairt,