Everything wur, &c.
They took the Prince of Wales up soon, an’ gan it me to daudle;
Then Albert fotch’d a silver spoon, an’ ax’d me to taste at t’ caudle,
Ecod, says aw, that’s good awd buck, it’s taste aws ne’er forget mon,
An’ if my owd mother’d gan sich suck, ’cod aw’d been suckin yet mon.
Everything wur, &c.
They ax’d me heau aw liked their son, an’ prais’d both th’ nose an eyes on’t,
Aw towd ’em though’t were only fun, ’t wur big enough for th’ size on’t,
Says aw your Queenship makes a stir (hoo shapes none like a dunce mon
But if eaur Nan lived as well as her hoo’d breed ’em two at wonce mon,)