My apple pooak theyn taen away,
An put puttates ith spot.
"Sich sturs wud ruin ony man;
Whate'er I says no use:
There's three or four oth back oth door,
Eighting my spenisjuce.
"I'll fotch a warrant, if I live;
I'll transpoort ten to-morn:
Reit ovver sea I'll send yo all,
As sure as 'ere yor born.