Upon a Zunday Acternoon,
Beforne the door a stanin,
To zee er chubby cheaks za hird,
An whitist lilies roun 'em spird,
A damas rawze her han in,
Ood do your hort good; an er eyes,
Dork, vull, an bright, an sporklin;
Tha country lads could not goo by,
Bit look thAc must--she iver shy,
Ood blish--tha timid lorklin!
Her dame war to her desperd kind;
She knaw'd er well dezarvin:
She gid her good advice an claws,
At which she niver toss'd her naws,
As zum ool, thawf pon starvin.
She oten yarly upp'd to goo
A milkin o' tha dairy;
The meads ring'd loudly wi' er zong;
Aw how she birshed the grass along,
As lissom as a vairy!
She war as happy as a prince;
Naw princess moor o' pleasure
When well-at-eased cood iver veel;
She ly'd her head upon her peel,
An vound athin a treasure.
There war a dessent comly youth,
Who took'd to her a likin;
An when a don'd in zunday claws,
You'd thenk en zummet I suppaws,
A look'd so desperd strikin.
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