Thowt ta diddle oud Tommy wad be a girt treat;
Hee'd a horse, too, 'twor war than oud Tommy's, ye see,
Fort' neet afore that hee'd thowt proper to dee!
Thinks Abey, t' oud codger'll nivver smoak t' trick,
I'll swop wi' him my poor deead horse for his wick,
An' if Tommy I nobbut can happen ta trap,
'Twill be a fine feather i' Aberram cap!
Soa ta Tommy he goas, an' the question he pops:
"Betwin thy horse and mine, prithee, Tommy, what swops?
What wilt gi' me ta boot? for mine's t' better horse still?"