THEY do zay that a travellèn chap

Have a-put in the newspeäper now,

That the bit o’ green ground on the knap hillock

Should be all a-took in vor the plough.

He do fancy 'tis easy to show

That we can be but stunpolls at best, blockheads

Vor to leäve a green spot where a flower can grow,

Or a voot-weary walker mid rest. may

'Tis hedge-grubbèn, Thomas, an’ ledge-grubbèn,

Never a-done

While a sov'rèn mwore's to be won. sovereign

The road, he do zay, is so wide

As 'tis wanted vor travellers’ wheels,

As if all that did travel did ride,

An’ did never get galls on their heels.

He would leäve sich a thin strip o’ groun’,

That, if a man's veet in his shoes

Wer a-burnèn an’ zore, why he coulden zit down

But the wheels would run over his tooes. toes

Vor 'tis meäke money, Thomas, an’ teäke money,

What's zwold an’ bought

Is all that is worthy o’ thought.

Years agoo the leäne-zides did bear grass,

Vor to pull wi’ the geeses’ red bills,

That did hiss at the vo'k that did pass, folk

Or the bwoys that pick'd up their white quills.

But shortly, if vower or vive four or five

Ov our goslèns do creep vrom the agg,

They must mwope in the geärden, mwore dead than alive,

In a coop, or a-tied by the lag.

Vor to catch at land, Thomas, an’ snatch at land,

Now is the plan;

Meäke money wherever you can.

The childern wull soon have noo pleäce

Vor to plaÿ in, an’ if they do grow,

They wull have a thin musheroom feäce,

Wi’ their bodies so sumple as dough. soft

But a man is a-meäde ov a child,

An’ his limbs do grow worksome by plaÿ;

An’ if the young child's little body's a-spweil'd, spoiled

Why, the man's wull the sooner decaÿ.

But wealth is wo'th now mwore than health is wo'th; worth

Let it all goo,

If't 'ull bring but a sov'rèn or two.