When tha winter wines be crousty,
An snaws dreav vast along,
I hurry whim--tha door tine,
An cheer er wi' a zong.
When spreng, adresst in tutties,
CAclls Acll tha birds abroad;
An wrans an robin-riddicks,
Tell Acll the cares o' God,
I zit bezides my cot-door
After my work is done,
While Pally, bizzy knittin,
Looks at tha zottin zun.
When zummertime is passin,
An narras dAcs be vine,
I drenk tha sporklin cider,
An wish naw wither wine.
How zweet tha smill o' clawver,
How zweet tha smill o' hAc;
How zweet is haulsom labour, ^
Bit zweeter Pall than thAc.
An who d'ye thenk I envy?--
Tha nawbles o' tha land?
ThAc can't be moor than happy,
An that is Teddy Band.
Mister Ginnins;
I a red thic ballet o' yourn called Fanny Fear, an, zim ta I,
there's naw moril to it. Nif zaw be you da thenk zo well o't, I'll
gee one.
I dwont want to frunt any ov the gennelmen o' tha country, bit I
Aclways a thawt it desperd odd, that dogs should be keept in a
kannel, and keept a hungered too, zaw that thAc mid be moor eager
to hunt thic poor little theng cAclled a hare.
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