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Then t' baileys leuked reawnd as sloy as a meawse, When they seed as aw t' goods were ta'en eawt o' t' heawse; Says one chap to th' tother, "Aws gone, theaw may see"; Says oi, "Ne'er freet, mon, yeaur welcome ta' me." They made no moor ado But whopped up th' eawd stoo', An' we booath leet, whack upo' t' flags
Looking back as I reached the corner, I saw four "clarks" watching me intently from the office windows, and above the roar and jangle of machinery was borne on the summer breeze the sound of sacred song shrill feminine voices: "Aws ut wuz in th' beginnin', uz now awn ever shawl be, worl' wi'out end Aamen!"
While on the point of friendly congratulations and advice, I should not forget to mention, that Horner also had his fling at me, perpetrating what he considered a joke at my expense. "Bai-ey Je-ove!" he said the very next Sunday when I met him outside the church after service. "You aah one of aws, now, Lorton, hay?" "Yes," I said.
"We cawn't keep the nasty things from singin'," said the old man apologetically. "Why should you?" I asked. "Huh, mon! but they sing sacred songs, and chaunts, and a' that, and say all together from twenty rooms, a hundred times a day, 'Aws ut wuz in th' beginnin, uz now awn ever shawl be, worl' wi'out end, Aamen. It's not right. I've told Mr. Jackson. Listen now, didn't I tell ye?"
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