Mi kitchen aw find amang th' rocks up o'th' moor, An' at neet under th' edge ov a haystack aw snoor, An' a wide spreeadin branch keeps th' cold rain off mi nop, Wol aw listen to th' stormcock 'at pipes up o'th top; Aw live, an' aw'm jolly, &c. Aw niver fear thieves, for aw've nowt they can tak, Unless it's thease tatters' at hing o' mi back; An' if they prig them, they'lt get suck'd do yo see, They'll be noa use to them, for they're little to me, Aw live, an' aw'm jolly, &c. Fowk may turn up ther nooas as they pass me i'th' road, An' get aght o'th' gate as if feear'd ov a tooad, But aw laff i' mi sleeve, like a snail in its shell, For th' less room they tak up, ther's all th' moor for misel, Aw live, an' aw'm jolly, &c. Tho philosiphers tawk, an' church parsons may praich, An' tell us true joy is far aght ov us raich; Yet aw niver tak heed o' ther cant o' ther noise, For he's nowt to be fear'd on 'at's nowt he can loise, Aw live, an' aw'm jolly, &c. "By th' heart!" sed Billy, "aw nivver heeard sich a song as that i' all mi life! Tha mun sing it ageean for me, wi' ta?" "Nay lad, aw'm nooan soa fond o' singin as that comes to." "By gow, but tha mun!" "Well if aw do aw'st want all th' puttates tha has left an' th' donkey an' all." "Nay, Maister, that's rayther too hard, yo willn't want all th' lot aw'l niver believe, yo'l throw me summat off?" "Well, aw dooant want to be hard o' ony body, but tha knows it's net to be expected aw shall taich thee a song like that for nowt, but as tha seems to be a daycent sooart ov a chap, if tha'll gie me th' donkey an' th' puttates aw'l mak thee a present o'th' panniers." "An' is that th' lowest hawpenny tha'll tak? Aw wodn't bate a hair off th' donkey's tail at that price; tha knows if tha wants to hear some reglar classified music tha'll ha to pay." "Well, blaze into it," sed Billy, "an' aw'l hug th' panniers mysel." "They're net a gurt weight." sed th' chap, "an' aw dar say they'll luk as weel o' thee as o' it." An' wol Billy wor takkin 'em off th' donkey an' puttin 'em on to hissen, th' chap sang th' song ovver ageean, an' when he'd done he walked off wi' th' donkey an' as mony puttates as he could hug, an' Billy started off hooam wi his panniers ov his rig, singin, "Aw live, an' aw'm jolly," wi such gusto wol th' fowk coom aght to see whativer ther wor to do, an' when they saw him huggin th' panniers they guessed what wor up, an' shook ther heeads, sarin, "Silly Billy!" Ov coorse when he gate hooam he tell'd his mother abaght it, an' wad have her listen to this new song. "Song, be hanged!" shoo sed, "aw'd a deal rather hear that donkey rant nor all th' songs at iha con cram into thi empty heead." An' away shoo went to get some fowk to follow th' chap an' get th' donkey back agean.