—An I wur a sprawlin' an' floppin' in wan of the owd Squire's pits,
But fur t' claäy at t' bottom an' that, I mout ha bin brokken to bits!
An' I roared fur 'elp, fur I cudn't git up, an' the watter wur oop to my chin.
But nobbudy eerd ma a' beälin', nor thowt on the hole I wur in!
They'd niver find nawthin but boäns, I knawed, if they'd iver the gumption to dredge,
Then I groäned (impressively)—fur I eerd Araminty a tooklin' 'oop by the edge!
(Sulky sarcasm.) "Wunnerful funny, beänt it?" I sez, (I wur feälin' fit for to choäk.
To be catched loike a bee in a bottle—an' see her enjyin' the joäk!)
(Indignantly.) "Hevn't ya naw moor manners," I sez, "ya greät fat himpident thing!"
(Pathetically.) Fur I'd bred her oop from a goslin', I had—and theer wur the sting!