For my new muse seems rather bettermost
All bide as you begrudge
A live lady she is! Swap-me-bob!
She puts bushes in my heart’s lodge
As I allus make rhymes for her heart to throb
Lends me the leanst of the best ideas
She looks-out the windows of her eyes
As she low me to lute abroad
You say she’s ampery as a mawk
I say she’s amakin and feared as a hawk
We do not drink tramp and my trape is never fine
But all is welly well if the road ahead is full of bethwine.