"Odds flesh! whey didna yo ha' a tussle wi' him?
Mey honts are itchen for a bowt wi' t' heretic robbers.

Walladey! walladey! that we should live to see t' oly feythers driven loike hummobees owt o' t' owd neest.

Whey they sayn ot King Harry hon decreet ot we're to ha' naw more monks or friars i' aw Englondshiar.

Ony think o' that.

An dunna yo knoa that t' Abbuts o' Jervaux an Salley wor hongt o' Tizeday at Loncaster Castle ?" "Good lorjus bless us!" exclaimed a sturdy hind, "we'n a protty king.
Furst he chops off his woife's heaod, an then hongs aw t' priests.
Whot'll t' warlt cum 'to?
"Eigh by t' mess, whot _win_ it cum to ?" cried Ruchot o' Roaph's.