Now would chwore hong'd, zis but thou most ma wrong,
Gods bors I crie God mercy to zweare,
Hast not my Rings and things, and geare with vaith and troth,
Among and wout vorzake ma now, nay masse ware that, vor if thou doo,
Chil take a knife and honge my zelfe vor one of thow,
Yea I woll, so I woll, that I woll, I vaith la.

Hadds voote zweete zis what aild tha woo ma now,
I cham as like to zarue thy turne,
As yer I wos zince chos I borne, and sha not I haue thow,
Lets zee who dare I chould but zee huds lid I zweare,
Chill take a zweard and make a yend of I or hee,
Yea I would, so I would, that I would, I vaith la.

Ha not I bought my Kerzie wedding briche,
Hudds hate cham angrie thou makes ma vret,
And is not my bond redie zet, woold zaue ma zucha twich,
Chill breake his brow, I vaith, I chill that shall loue thou,
Then take a rop and drown thy zelf vor mere good will,
Yea I would, so I would, that I would, I vaith la.