AYE, a sad life his wife must ha’ led,

Vor so snappish he's leätely a-come,

That there's nothèn but anger or dread

Where he is, abroad or at hwome; away

He do wreak all his spite on the bwones

O’ whatever do vlee, or do crawl; fly

He do quarrel wi’ stocks, an’ wi’ stwones,

An’ the raïn, if do hold up or vall;

There is nothèn vrom mornèn till night

Do come right to Gruffmoody Grim.

Woone night, in his anger, he zwore one

At the vier, that didden burn free: fire, didn't

An’ he het zome o't out on the vloor, hit some of it

Vor a vlanker it cast on his knee. spark

Then he kicked it vor burnèn the child,

An’ het it among the cat's heaïrs;

An’ then beät the cat, a-run wild,

Wi’ a spark on her back up the steaïrs:

Vor even the vier an’ fleäme

Be to bleäme wi’ Gruffmoody Grim.

Then he snarl'd at the tea in his cup,

Vor 'twer all a-got cwold in the pot,

But 'twer woo'se when his wife vill'd it up worse

Vrom the vier, vor 'twer then scaldèn hot;

Then he growl'd that the bread wer sich stuff

As noo hammer in parish could crack,

An’ flung down the knife in a huff;

Vor the edge o'n wer thicker'n the back. of it

Vor beäkers an’ meäkers o’ tools bakers and makers

Be all fools wi’ Gruffmoody Grim.

Oone day as he vish'd at the brook,

He flung up, wi’ a quick-handed knack,

His long line, an’ his high-vleèn hook -flying

Wer a-hitch'd in zome briars at his back.

Then he zwore at the brembles, an’ prick'd

His beäre hand, as he pull'd the hook free; bare

An’ ageän, in a rage, as he kick'd

At the briars, wer a-scratch'd on the knee.

An’ he wish'd ev'ry bremble an’ briar

Wer o’ vier, did Gruffmoody Grim.