Tha wAclls once moor look'd bright.
Tha Painter, fags, a war a Plummer
An Glazier too,
Put vooA¤th his powers,
(His workin made naw little scummer!)
In zentences, in flourishes, and flowers.
Tha chancel, church and Acll look'd new,
An war well suited to avoord delight.
Tha Ten Commandments glitter'd wi' tha vornish;
Compleat now, tha Lord's Prayer, what cood tornish.
As vor tha Creed 'twar made bran new
Vrom top ta bottom; I tell ye true!
Tha Acltar piece wi' Peter war now naw libel
Upon tha church,
Which booA¤th athin an, tower an all, athout
Look'd like a well-dressed maid in pride about;
Tha walls rejAcic'd wi' texts took vrom tha Bible.
Bit vor all that, thAc left en in tha lurch; I bag your pardon.
I mean, of Acll tha expense thAc ood'n pAc a varden.
Jitch zweepin, birshin, paintin, scrubbin;
Tha tuts ad niver jitch a drubbin;
Jitch white-washin and jitch brought gwAcin
A power of money--Tha Painter's bill
Made of itzel a pirty pill,
Ta zwell which Acll o'm tried in vain!
Ther stomicks turn'd, ther drawts were norry; [Footnote: Narrow]
Jitch gillded pills thAc cood'n corry.
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