A sweeper's lad was late o' th' neeght,
His slap-shod shoon had leeam'd his feet;
He call'd te see a good awd deeame,
'At monny a time had trigg'd his weame;
(For he wor then fahve miles fra yam.)
He ax'd i' t' lair te let him sleep,
An' he'd next day their chimlers sweep.
They supper'd him wi' country fare,
Then show'd him tul his hooal i' t' lair.
He crept intul his streeahy bed,