Bless me, fither, fer I have zinned,
itís been foorty years
zince yer last confusion.

Neverwhiles in the pub
where you was zittin,
fer I was listnin to you woo
brightín cheery maids.

Red-haired they was, fither,
donít you go an deny it,
behind yer game a ordinary cairds.

I seen ya creakin in yer vestments,
thinkin noons the miser,
er somesich in yer ringading bell.

Nodden down foorn yer blessin,
fither, yer the one a needs it now.

Nodden down, den zither
weícn go an dream
another paint a stout.

Nodden down, den zither
weícn scheme
what life is all about.

January 9, 2006

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