Then rising, aw went ma ways heame,
Aw knock’d at the door, an’ cry’d, Jenny;
Says she, Canny man, is’te lame,
Or been wadin in Tyne, ma hinny?
I’ troth, she was like for to dee,
An’ just by the way to relieve her,
The water’s been wadin through me,
An’ this jacky’s a gay deceiver.
Rum te idily, &c.
If e’er aw drink jacky again,