As late at night a rawd along
All droo a unket ood,
A ooman rawze vrom off tha groun
An right avaur en stood:
She look'd za pitis Mr. Guy
At once hiz hoss's pace
Stapt short, a wonderin how, at night,
She com'd in jitch a place.
A little trunk war in her hon;
She zim'd vur gwon wi' chile.
She ax'd en nif a'd take her up
And cor her a veo mile.
Mr. Guy, a man o' veelin
For a ooman in distress,
Than took er up behind en:
A cood'n do na less.
A corr'd er trunk avaur en,
An by hiz belt o' leather
A bid er hawld vast; on thAc rawd,
Athout much tAck, together.
Not vur thAc went avaur she gid
A whissle loud an long;
Which Mr. Guy, thawt very strange;
Er voice too zim'd za strong!
She'd lost er dog, she zed; an than
Another whissle blaw'd,
That stortled Mr. Guy;--a stapt
Hiz hoss upon tha rawd.
Goo on, zed she; bit Mr. Guy
Zum rig beginn'd ta fear:
Vor voices rawze upon tha wine,
An zim'd a comin near.
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