But ’tis drevèn out, Thomas, an’ hevèn out.
Trample noo grounds,
Unless you be after the hounds.
Ah! the Squiër o’ Culver-dell Hall
Wer as diff’rent as light is vrom dark,
Wi’ zome vo’k that, as evenèn did vall,
Had a-broke drough long grass in his park;
Vor he went, wi’ a smile, vor to meet
Wi’ the trespassers while they did pass,
An’ he zaid, “I do fear you’ll catch cwold in your veet,
You’ve a-walk’d drough so much o’ my grass.”
His mild words, Thomas, cut em like swords, Thomas,
Newly a-whet,
An’ went vurder wi’ them than a dreat.
THE RAILROAD.
I took a flight, awhile agoo,
Along the raïls, a stage or two,
An’ while the heavy wheels did spin
An’ rottle, wi’ a deafnèn din,
In clouds o’ steam, the zweepèn traïn
Did shoot along the hill-bound plaïn,
As sheädes o’ birds in flight, do pass
Below em on the zunny grass.
An’ as I zot, an’ look’d abrode
On leänen land an’ windèn road,
The ground a-spread along our flight
Did vlee behind us out o’ zight;
The while the zun, our heav’nly guide,
Did ride on wi’ us, zide by zide.
An’ zoo, while time, vrom stage to stage,
