I'll gi'e your grinnèn feäce a slap,
Your drawlèn tongue can only run
To turn a body into fun.
J. Oh! I woont do 't ageän. Oh dear!
Till next time, Anny. Oh my ear!
Oh! Anne, why you've a-het my hat
'Ithin the milk, now look at that.
A. Do sar ye right, then, I don't ceäre.
I'll thump your noddle,—there—there—there.