Bwoy

But eesterday he guided slow My downcast Jenny, vull o' woe, An' then my little maid in black, A-walken softly on her track; An' after he'd a-turn'd ageaen, To let me goo along the leaene, He had noo little bwoy to vill His last white eaerms, an' they stood still.

"Now, you bwoys, give awver runnin' 'bout like rabbits," cried out Mr. Chapple.

Lard ha' mercy me, ye could ha' knocked I down wi' a feather when Keeper told I--" "A-h-h-h, them bwoys o' Chaffey's has been poachin' again I d' 'low," interrupted Mrs. Haskell eagerly. […] And Susan, she did write back immediate an' say, 'My poor bwoy, there be a sad surprise in store for you.'

They went up leaene an hour agoo; An' at the green the young and wold Do stan' so thick as sheep in vwold: The men do laugh, the bwoys do shout,-- Come out you mwopen wench, come out, An' go wi' me, an' show at leaest Bright eyes an' smiles at Woodcom' feaest.

Then comes the Stones' "Miss You"; on cue, the crowd yells in unison, "What's da matter wich you bwoy!"