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Sweärin agean, you Toms, as ye used to do twelve year sin'!

Ye niver 'eärd Steevie swear 'cep' it wur at a dog coomin' in,

An' boath o' ye mun be fools to be hallus a-shawin' your claws,

Fur I niver cared nothink for neither—an' one o' ye deäd ye knaws!

Coom give hoäver then, weant ye? I warrant ye soom fine daäy—

Theere, dig down—I shall hew to gie one or tother awaäy.

Can't ye taäke pattern by Steevie? ye shant hew a drop fro' the paäil.

Steevie be right good manners bang thruf to the tip o' the taäil.