CHILD.
An’ father, what d’ye think? I voun’ to-day
The nest where thik wold hen ov our’s do lay:
’Twer out in orcha’d hedge, an’ had vive aggs.
WIFE.
Lo’k there: how wet you got your veet an’ lags!
How did ye get in such a pickle, Jahn?
JOHN.
I broke my hoss, an’ been a-fwo’ced to stan’
All’s day in mud an’ water vor to dig,
An’ meäde myzelf so wetshod as a pig.
CHILD.
Father, teäke off your shoes, then come, and I
Will bring your wold woones vor ye, nice an’ dry.
WIFE.
An’ have ye got much hedgèn mwore to do?
JOHN.
Enough to last vor dree weeks mwore or zoo.
WIFE.
An’ when y’ave done the job you be about,
D’ye think you’ll have another vound ye out?
JOHN.
O ees, there’ll be some mwore: vor after that,
I got a job o’ trenchèn to goo at;
An’ then zome trees to shroud, an’ wood to vell,—
Zoo I do hope to rub on pretty well
Till zummer time; an’ then I be to cut
The wood an’ do the trenchèn by the tut.
CHILD.
An’ nex’ week, father, I’m a-gwaïn to goo
