Ah! yesterday, d'ye know, I voun' Tom Dumpy's cwoat an' smock-frock, down Below the pollard out in groun'; An' zoo I slyly stole An' took the smock-frock up, an' tack'd The sleeves an' collar up, an' pack'd Zome nice sharp stwones, all fresh a-crack'd, 'Ithin each pocket-hole. An' in the evenèn, when he shut Off work, an' come an' donn'd his cwoat, Their edges gi'ed en sich a cut, How we did stan' an' laugh! An' when the smock-frock I'd a-zow'd Kept back his head an' hands, he drow'd Hizzelf about, an' teäv'd, an' blow'd, Lik' any up-tied calf. Then in a veag away he flung His frock, an' after me he sprung, An' mutter'd out sich dreats, an' wrung His vist up sich a size! But, I, a-runnèn, turn'd an' drow'd Some doust, a-pick'd up vrom the road, Back at en wi' the wind, that blow'd It right into his eyes. An' he did blink, an' vow he'd catch Me zomehow yet, an' be my match. But I wer nearly down to hatch Avore he got vur on; An' up in chammer, nearly dead Wi' runnèn, lik' a cat I vled, An' out o' window put my head To zee if he wer gone. An' there he wer, a-prowlèn roun' Upon the green; an' I look'd down An' told en that I hoped he voun' He mussen think to peck Upon a body zoo, nor whip The meäre to drow me off, nor tip Me out o' cart ageän, nor slip Cut hoss-heäir down my neck. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EPITHALAMION MADE AT LINCOLNES INNE by JOHN DONNE SONNET: 13. TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS by JOHN MILTON CAPTAIN CARPENTER by JOHN CROWE RANSOM DESERT by PATRICK JOHN MCALISTER ANDERSON JOB. THE INSCRUTABLE MYSTERY by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TIME'S CHANGES, FR. THE ART OF POLITICS by JAMES BRAMSTON |