Yo gentlemen o with yor heaunds an yor parks,
Yo may gamble an sport till yo dee;
Bo a quiet heause nook, a good wife, an a book,
Is mooar to the likins o mee.
Wi mi pickers an pins,
An my wellers to th shins;
Mi linderins, shuttle, and yealdhook;
Mi treddles an sticks;
Mi weight-ropes an bricks;
What a life!said the wayver o Wellbrook.
Aw care no for titles, nor heauses, nor lond;
Owd Jones a name fittin for me;
An gi me a thatch wi a wooden dur-latch,
An six feet o greaund when aw dee.
Wi mi pickers, etc.
Some folk liken tstuff their owd wallets wi mayte,
Till theyre as reaunt an as brawsen as frogs;
But for meawm content, when awve paid deawn mi rent,
Wi enoof tkeep me up i mi clogs-ogs.
Wi mi pickers, etc.
An ther some are too idle to use their own feet,
An mun keawer an stroddle i thlone;
But when awm wheelt or carrieditll be to get berried,
An then Dicky-up wi owd Jone-one.
Wi mi pickers, etc.
Yo may turn up yor noses at me an thowd dame,
An thrutch us like dogs agen th wo;
Bo as longs aw can naygur, awll neer be a beggar,
So aw care no a cuss for yo o-o.
Wi mi pickers, etc.
Then Margit, turn reaund that owd hum-a-drum wheel,
An mi shuttle shall fly like a brid;
An when aw no longer con use hont or finger,
Theyn saywhile aw could do aw did-id.
Wi mi pickers, etc.