Classic Poem

Thou ne're wutt riddle, neighbour Jan
Where ich a late ha been-a?
Why ich ha been at Plymoth, Man,
The leeke was yet ne're zeen-a.
Zutch streetes, zutch men, zutch hugeous zeas,
Zutch things with guns there tumbling,
Thy zelfe leeke me thoudst blesse to see,
Zutch overmonstrous grumbling.

The towne orelaid with shindle stone
Doth glissen like the skee-a:
Brave shopps stand ope, and all yeare long
I thinke a Faire there bee-a:
A many gallant man there goth
In gold that zaw the King-a;
The King zome zweare himzelfe was there,
A man or zome zutch thing-a.

Voole thou that hast no water past,
But thicka in the Moore-a,
To zee the zea would be agast,
It doth zoe rage and roar-a:
Zoe zalt it tasts thy tongue will thinke
The vier is in the water;
It is zoe wide noe lande is spide,
Looke ne're zoe long thereafter.

The Water vrom the Element
None can dezeave cha vore-a,
It semmeth low, yet all consent
Tis higher than the Moore-a.
Tis strang how looking down the Cliffe
Men looke mere upward rather;
If these same Eene had it not zeen
Chud scarce beleeve my Vather.

Amid the water woodden birds,
And vlying houses zwimme-a,
All vull of goods as ich have heard
And men up to the brimm-a:
They venter to another world
Desiring to conquier-a,
Vow which their guns, vowle develish ons,
Doe dunder and spitt vier-a.

Good neighbour Tom, how farre is that?
This meazell towne chill leave-a;
Chill mope noe longer here, that's vlatt
To watch a Sheepe or Sheare-a:
Though it as varre as London be,
Which ten mile ich imagin,
Chill thither hie for this place I
Doe take in greate indulgin.