Roger’s courtin’ Em’ly. He’s a townee but aw right.
He’ll come and chop mi logs up, then tek ‘er out at night.

She’s not bad lookin’, sees ta, though she’s forty now, or more;
But our Emily’s an odd one, an’ ‘er temper’s kind of raw.

She nivver mourned our Jimmy; they were rivals aw ‘is life;
Even in ‘is pram, she would’ve ‘ad ‘im, wi’ that knife.

She’ll ‘ave what money I can leave, my farm an’ Joyce’s too.
‘E’s a worker is that Roger, what she gets ‘e’s welcome to.

But don’t look for t’engagement in “Hatched, Matched an’ Dispatched”;
It’ll tek a damn good Roger to keep our Em’ly catch’t.