"
"An how can you, a seely man,
Jitch seely journey make?
"What! dwont ye knaw that now about
It is the midst o' June?
Tha hawly thorn at Kirsmas blaws--
You be zix months too zoon.
Goo whim again, yea gAcwky! goo!"
Zaw zed a damsel vair
As dewy mornin late in MAc;
An Jerry wide did stare.
"Lord Miss!" zed he, "I niver thawt,
O' Kirsmas!--while I've shoes,
To goo back now I be zet out,
Is what I sholl not choose.
I'll zee the Torr an hawly thorn,
An Glassenberry too;
An, nif you'll put me in tha wAc,
I'll gee grate thanks ta you."
Goo droo thic veel an up thic lane,
An take tha lift hon path,
Than droo Miss Crossman's backzid strait,
Ool bring ye up ta Wrath.
Now mine, whaur you do turn again
At varmer Veal's long yacker,
ClooA¤se whaur Jan Lide, tha cobler, lives
Who makes tha best o' tacker;
You mist turn short behine tha house
An goo right droo tha shord,
An than you'll pass a zummer lodge,
A builded by tha lord.
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