Jue wed have he, and I mait go away.
Mal. I tell the lubber so! I to Wheal Bog!
I’ll scatt his chacks, the emprent, saucy dog.
Now hire me, Saundry Kemp, now down and full,
Ef thee arten hastes, thee shust hire the whole.
Fust jue must naw, tes true as thee art there,
Aant Blanch and I went to Golsinny feer.
Who overtookt us in the doosty road,
In common hum but Crull, the cloppen toad.
Zes he to Aant, “What cheer? Aant Blanch, what cheer?