Wi beatin heart.

His dress wor black as black could be,
An th' latest fashion aw could see,
But yet they hung soa dawderly,
Like suits i' shops;
Bith heart! yo mud ha putten three
Sich legs i'th' slops.

Says aw, "Owd trump, it's rather late
For one at's dress'd i' sich a state,
Across this Slack to mak ther gate:
Is ther some pairty?
Or does ta allus dress that rate--
Black duds o'th' wairty?"

He twisted raand as if to see
What sooart o' covy aw cud be,
An' grinned wi sich a maath at me,
It threw me sick!
"Lor saves!" aw cried, "an' is it thee
At's call'd ow'd Nick!"

But when aw luk'd up into th' place,
Whear yo'd expect to find a face;
A awful craytur met mi gaze,
It took mi puff:
"Gooid chap," aw sed, "please let me pass,
Aw've seen enough!"