We youngsters dree, the youngest I,
To zee the zwimmers Acll stood by
Upon the green bonk o' the Brue
Jist whaur a stook let water droo:
A quiet time of joyousness
Zim'd vor a space thic dAc to bless!
A dog' too, faithful to his maA"ster
War there, and mang'd wi' the disaster--
_Vigo_, ah well I mine his name!
A Newvoun-lond and very tame!
But Evans only war to blame:
He AcllA"s paddled near the shore
Wi' timid hon and coward core;
While _Doctor Cox_ div'd, zwim'd at ease
Like fishes in the zummer seas;
Or as the skaiters on the ice
In winin circles wild and nice
Yet in a moment he war gwon,
The wonderment of ivry one:
That is, we _dree_ and Evans, Acll
That zeed what Blanscue did bevAcll.--
Athout one sign, or naise, or cry,
Or shriek, or splash, or groan, or sigh!
Could zitch a zwimmer ever die
In wActer?--Yet we gaz'd in vain
Upon thic bright and wActer plain:
All smooth and calm--no ripple gave
One token of the zwimmer's grave!
We hir'd en not, we zeed en not!--
The glassy wActer zim'd a blot?
While Evans, he of coward core,
Still paddled as he did bevore!
At length our fears our silence broke,--
Young as we war, and children Acll,
We wish'd to goo an zum one cAcll;
But Evans carelissly thus spoke--
"Oh, _Cox_ is up the river gone,
Vor sartain ool be back anon;--
He tAclk'd o' cyder, zed he'd g'up
To Stole's an drenk a horty cup!"
[Footnote: Mr.
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