A DO’SET SALE
WITH A MISTAKE.
(Thomas and Mr Auctioneer.)
T. Well here, then, Mister auctioneer,
Be theäse the virs, I bought, out here?
A. The firs, the fir-poles, you bought? Who?
’Twas furze, not firs, I sold to you.
T. I bid vor virs, and not vor vuzzen,
Vor vir-poles, as I thought, two dozen.
A. Two dozen faggots, and I took
Your bidding for them. Here’s the book.
T. I wont have what I diddèn buy.
I don’t want vuzzen, now. Not I.
Why firs an’ furze do sound the seäme.
Why don’t ye gi’e a thing his neäme?
Ays, firs and furze! Why, who can tell
Which ’tis that you do meän to zell?
No, no, be kind enough to call
Em virs, and vuzzen, then, that’s all.
DON’T CEÄRE.
Wer a-took in a happerèn storm.
But we chaps took the maïdens, an’ kept em wi’ clokes
Under shelter, all dry an’ all warm;
An’ to my lot vell Jeäne, that’s my bride,
That did titter, a-hung at my zide;
Zaid her aunt, “Why the vo’k ’ull talk finely o’ you,”
An’, cried she, “I don’t ceäre if they do.”
