Bit 'tis not not jitchy theng we knaw;
A is a cunjerin mon,
Vor on Cock-hill we vound en ly'd
Iz stick stif in his hon.
Iz vace war cover'd thick wi' vlies
An bloody stouts a plenty;
Nif he'd o pumple voot bezide,
An a brumstick vor'n to zit ascride,
O' wizards a mid be thawt tha pride,
Amangst a kit o' twenty."
"Lord zur! an why d'ye bring en here
To gally Acll tha people?
Why zuggers! nif we frunt en than,
He'll auver-dro tha steeple.
I bag ye, zur, to take en vooA¤th;
There! how iz teeth da chatter;
Lawk zur! vor Christ--look there again!
A'll witchify BejwActer!"
Tha gennelman stood by an smiled
To zee tha bussle risin:
Yor zoon, droo-out tha morkit wide
Tha news wor gwon saprisin.
An round about tha cawch thAc dring'd--
Tha countryman and townsman;
An young an awld, an man an maid--
Wi' now an tan, an here an there,
Amang tha crowd to gape an stare,
A doctor and a gownsman.
Jitch naise an bother wAckid zoon
Poor hormless Jerry Nutty,
A look'd astunn'd;--a cood'n speak!
An daver'd war iz tutty.
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