Classic Poem

Oh Dolley dear I touldn't tum
Right bat adain to you
I've had a tedible upset
And don't know what to do.

You know that teeney, weeney lamb
Wif white wool on its coat
It went and let the dunney do
Right down its little froat.

And then Miss Dranma she must say
To dive it taster oil
To make it pit it up adain
And all its feavers spoil.

And now she says that it will die
The silly ittle ass
But I know it dest won't — see why?
Betause its eating drass.