But aw’m tell’d they’re oft het i’ their trappin:
Aw’d cuddle much rather a lass i’ the Sworl,
Than the dolls i’ the Strand, or i’ Wappin.
’Bout Lunnun, &c.
Wiv a’ the stravaging aw wanted a munch,
An’ ma thropple was ready te gizen;
So we went tiv a yell house, and there teuk a lunch,
But the reck’ning, my saul! was a bizon:
Wiv hus i’ th’ North, when aw’m wairsh i’ my way,
(But te knaw wor warm hearts, ye yur sell come)