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Ten things an’ yan, Bobby,

Ten things an’ yan;

Here five an’ five for Betty Banks,

An’ yan for Betty’s man.

“Lord preserve oor wits—sec as they ūrr,” says I. “I mūn be gā’n wrang i’ my heid when I’ve teàn till mackin’ sangs!” But t’ queerest break was ’at I dūddn’t mak’ them—they meàd thersel’s—an’ they meàd me sing them an’ o’, whedder I wad or nūt—an’ off I went ageàn till a different teùn—

Says Betty—says she; says Betty till me—

“If owte thou contrives to forgit,

“I’ll reckon thè’ daizter an’ dafter,” says she,

“Nor iver I’ve reckon’t thè’ yit.”

I’s daizter an’ dafter nor iver, she’ll say,

An’ marry, she willn’t say wrang!

But scold as she will, ey, an’ gūrn as she may,

I’ll sing her a bonnie lāl sang, lāl sang,

I’ll sing her a bonnie lāl sang.

“Well! It hes cūm’t till whoa wad hae thowte it,” says I, “if I cannot stop mysel’ frae mackin’ sangs an’ singin’ them of a wet day i’ Widdup Wūd; I’ll coont t’ things ower ageàn,” says I, “an’ see if that’ll stop ma.” Ye ma’ believe ma or nūt, as ye like, but iv anūdder tick-tack there was I coontin’ t’ things ower iv a sang:—