When chears and tables crash'd;
"Me spice and apples daon oth floor,
And cumfit glass is smash'd."
Lads ran at apples, spice and nuts,
All sprawling daon o'th floor;
Poor Dolly said, "If I get aaot,
Yol catch me here no moore."
"Naa, flint-faced Tom," old Betty said,
"There's not a war ith taon;"
Tha held her fast, then late her slip,