Good bwye ta thee Cot! shood I niver behauld thee
Again; still I thank thee vor Acll that is past!
Thy friendly ruf shelter'd--while mother wActch'd awver.
An haw'd vor my comfort vrom vust unto last.
Good bwye ta thee Cot; vor the time mAc be longful
Beforn I on thy drashall again zet my eye;
Thy tutties ool blossom, an daver an blossom
Again and again--zaw good bwye, an good bwye!
FANNY FEAR
The melancholy incident related in the following story, actually
occurred a few years ago at Shapwick.
Good Gennel-vawk! an if you please
To lissen to my storry,
A mAc-be 'tis a jitch a one,
Ool make ye zummet zorry.
'Tis not a hoozay tale of grief,
A put wi' ort together,
That where you cry, or where you laugh,
Da matter not a veather;
Bit 'tis a tale vor sartin true,
Wi' readship be it spawken;
I knaw it all, begummers! well,
By tale, eese, an by tawken.
The maid's right name war FANNY FEAR,
A tidy body lookin;
An she cood brew, and she cood bake,
An dumplins bwile, and skimmer cake;
An all the like o' cookin.
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