Oh! thik Gammony Gaÿ is so droll,
That if he's at hwome by the he'th,
Or wi' vo'k out o' door, he's the soul
O' the meetèn vor antics an' me'th;
He do cast off the thoughts ov ill luck
As the water's a-shot vrom a duck;
He do zing where his naïghbours would cry
He do laugh where the rest o's would sigh:
Noo other's so merry o' feäce,
In the pleäce, as Gammony Gaÿ.