We be all lik’ a zull’s idle sheäre out,
An’ shall rust out, unless we do wear out,
Lik’ do-nothèn, rue-nothèn,
Dead alive dumps.
As vor me, why my life idden bound
To my own heart alwone, among men;
I do live in myzelf, an’ ageän
In the lives o’ my childern all round:
I do live wi’ my bwoy in his plaÿ,
An’ ageän wi’ my maïd in her zongs;
An’ my heart is a-stirr’d wi’ their jaÿ,
An’ would burn at the zight o’ their wrongs.
I ha’ nine lives, an’ zoo if a half
O’m do cry, why the rest o’m mid laugh
All so plaÿvully, jaÿvully,
Happy wi’ hope.
Tother night I come hwome a long road,
When the weather did sting an’ did vreeze;
An’ the snow—vor the day had a-snow’d—
Wer avroze on the boughs o’ the trees;
An’ my tooes an’ my vingers wer num’,
An’ my veet wer so lumpy as logs,
An’ my ears wer so red’s a cock’s cwom’;
An’ my nose wer so cwold as a dog’s;
But so soon’s I got hwome I vorgot
Where my limbs wer a-cwold or wer hot,
When wi’ loud cries an’ proud cries
They coll’d me so cwold.
Vor the vu’st that I happen’d to meet
Come to pull my girtcwoat vrom my eärm,
An’ another did rub my feäce warm,
An’ another hot-slipper’d my veet;
While their mother did cast on a stick,
O
