An’ if I’ve luck upon my zide,
They bells shall sound bwoth loud an’ wide,
A peal above they slopes o’ gray,
Zome merry day wi’ Jeäne a bride.
GWAIN TO BROOKWELL.
At Easter, though the wind war high,
We vound we had a zunny sky,
An’ zoo wold Dobbin had to trudge
His dousty road by knap an’ brudge,
An’ jog, wi’ hangèn vetterlocks
A-sheäkèn roun’ his heavy hocks,
An’ us, a lwoad not much too small,
A-ridèn out to Brookwell Hall;
An’ there in doust vrom Dobbin’s heels,
An’ green light-waggon’s vower wheels,
Our merry laughs did loudly sound,
In rollèn winds athirt the ground;
While sheenèn-ribbons’ color’d streäks
Did flutter roun’ the maïdens’ cheäks,
As they did zit, wi’ smilèn lips,
A-reachèn out their vinger-tips
Toward zome teäkèn pleäce or zight
That they did shew us, left or right;
An’ woonce, when Jimmy tried to pleäce
A kiss on cousin Polly’s feäce,
She push’d his hat, wi’ wicked leers,
Right off above his two red ears,
An’ there he roll’d along the groun’
Wi’ spreadèn brim an’ rounded crown,
An’ vound, at last, a cowpon’s brim,
An’ launch’d hizzelf, to teäke a zwim;
An’ there, as Jim did run to catch
S
