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 | The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown |  |
The Pazon that overtook her there
Comin' home from Hollantide fair—
The Pazon? No, but Nessy Brew—
Overtook her at Follieu,
Past Bibaloe—aye, man, aye—
Middlin' near the Never-say-die—
Toplisses—you'll know the spot—
Nessy Brew though, whether or not—
Nessy—her of coorse that had been
At the fair—The Pazon? navar was seen,
Nor navar could be at the like of yandhar—
Pazon Gale! you goosie-gandhar—
What are you thinkin' of? Navar! navar!
Some people's got a notion they're clavar—
Witty—eh? But navar mind.
Cryin'? most despard! cryin', cryin',
Cryin' fit to break her heart,
The Pazon was sayin'; and her that smart,
Of a rule, and noways apt to be freckened
Night or day.
Comin' home from Hollantide fair—
The Pazon? No, but Nessy Brew—
Overtook her at Follieu,
Past Bibaloe—aye, man, aye—
Middlin' near the Never-say-die—
Toplisses—you'll know the spot—
Nessy Brew though, whether or not—
Nessy—her of coorse that had been
At the fair—The Pazon? navar was seen,
Nor navar could be at the like of yandhar—
Pazon Gale! you goosie-gandhar—
What are you thinkin' of? Navar! navar!
Some people's got a notion they're clavar—
Witty—eh? But navar mind.
Cryin'? most despard! cryin', cryin',
Cryin' fit to break her heart,
The Pazon was sayin'; and her that smart,
Of a rule, and noways apt to be freckened
Night or day.
| The Collected Poems of T. E. Brown | |