Classic Poem

Mi love is like the passion dock,
That grows i’ t’summer fog;
An’ tho’ shoo’s but a country lass,
I like mi Sall o’ t’Bog.

I walk’d her aght up Rivock End,
An’ dahn a bonny dell,
Whear golden balls an’ kahslips grow,
An’ buttercups do smell.

We sat us dahn on top o’ t’grass,
Clois to a runnin’ brook,
An’ harken’d t’watter wagtails sing
Wi’ t’sparrow, thrush, an’ rook.

Aw lockt her in mi arms, an’ thowt
As t’sun shane in her een,
Sho wor the nicest cauliflaar
At ivver aw hed seen.

’Twor here we tell’d wur tales o’ love,
Beneath t’owd hezzel tree;
How fondly aw liked Sall o’ t’Bog,
How dearly shoo loved me!

An’ if ivver aw deceive thee, Sall,
Aw vah bi all aw see,
Aw wish ’at aw mud be a kah,
An’ it beleng ta thee.

But aw hev plump fergetten nah
What awther on us said;
At onny rate we parted friends,
An’ boath went hooam to bed.