So don't take it ill of me, John; I beg of you be careful of your English.

Turn it over as you're about to speak.' 'Change loads on the road, you mean,' said John Thresher.

'Na, na, he's come to settle nigh a weedy field, if you like, but his crop ain't nigh reaping yet.

Hark you, Mary Waddy, who're a widde, which 's as much as say, an unocc'pied mind, there's cockney, and there's country, and there 's school.

Mix the three, strain, and throw away the sediment.