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So the Pazon reckoned
She must have got in some trouble, and hauls
Ould Smiler back in the breeches, and calls;
And “Nessy,” he says, “is that you?
It's Nessy, isn't it? Nessy Brew?”
Dark, you know, and drizzlin' rain—
But Nessy wouldn' answer again
For a bit—don't ye see? lek didn' want
The Pazon to know her, and made a slant,

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And stoopin' there, and in on the ditch.
But the Pazon gave a little skitch,
And got in front, and pinned her as nate
As pozzible, and—