An' then you know that zome'hat is a-zeed
Down there in leäne, an' over in the meäd,
A-comèn zometimes lik' a slinkèn hound,
Or rollèn lik' a vleece along the ground.
An' woonce, when gramfer wi' his wold grey meäre
Wer ridèn down the leäne vrom Shroton feäir,
It roll'd so big's a pack ov wool across
The road just under en, an' leäm'd his hoss.
DICK.
Aye; did ye ever hear—vo'k zaid 'twer true—