Classic Poem

Let them as likes the chapels goa galloping awaay,
A-buzzing all the Sunday, and grooaning ivery daay;
At singing hymns or praying they niver seems to tire,
But let me 'ev the settle by the Mill Inn fire.

There's some as niver smoaks nor drinks: goas sliving iverywhere
Wi' faaces leean and starving, all hungry-noazed, to peer
At what their neighbour's doing, and how and why and when;
Noan on 'em iver thinks 'ere's owt the matter wi' hissen.

Self-righteous, awming hypocrites as holds theirsens that high
You'd think as they was tenants of a farmstead in the sky.
All what they do is good and true, all other ways is wrong —
I'd sooner live wi' feyther's pig than mix wi' such a throng.

If we should spend a copper on pleasuring oursens
What's toiled and moiled and sweated down these 'ere loanly Fens,
If we should for one hour forgit our troubles sore,
We're boozers, wasters, devil's children, and a dashed sight more.

But they can ware their money on that as they likes best,
On Sunday schools, or feathering the local parson's nest,
On preaching to us heathen what doan't agree wi' they
It's called " self-sacrificing " — " seeking the better way. "

Their money brings 'em pleasure, the same as ours does,
But they looks down their noazes and starts to hum and buzz,
Booasting as how they does a lot to glorify the Lord.
I think the glory's nearer hoam, if the truth was iver knawed.

Why can't they mind their business, and let me manage mine?
Why can't they do a-that-'ow, the scanny, sneaking swine?
'Ere's Cunning Jim and Ezra Bones and " Uncle" Rogers, too,
What sets the tunes and starts the hymns and leads the chapel crew;

He sits and sings and grooans awaay, the sweat upon his faace,
Expecting as the noise he makes'll 'arn him extra graace.
Me for the fields and shady woods, the stars to show the way;
I addle money in the night, and ware it in the day;

I loves to dodge them keepers what thinks theirsens so fauce,
And catching birds is better fun than wok behind a horse;
'Twill soon be time I started off, wi' noose and net and wire,
But first I'm for the settle by the Mill Inn fire.