Classic Poem

Cot splutter o'nails,
Hur was come from North Wales,
To try her good fortune in London;
But oh! hur poor heart,
Hur fears for hur part,
Alas! hur for ever is undone.

For as hur was coing,
Which Shenkin and Owen,
To pray to goot Tavit hur faint, Sir;
A young tamsel hur met,
Put hur all in a sweat,
Goot lack hur was ready to faint, Sir.

So pright was hur eyes,
As the stars in the skies,
Hur lips were like rupies so fine, Sir;
Her cheeks were o'er spread
With a sweet white and red,
She look't like an angel twine, Sir.

When she spoke, how hur voice
Made hur posome rejoice
So charming and prase were hur words, Sir;
The wood lark or thrush,
That sing on a push,
No accents so sweet can afford, Sir.

Since that luckless hour,
So creat is love's power,
Hur croans and says nothing but heigh day;
But hur passion, hur fear,
Hur can never declare.
For the lass was as crand as a lady.

Ye true lovers all,
When you hear of hur fall,
O'er hur crave shed a tear out of pity;
For so earnest hur craves,
Hur shall tie hur pelieves,
And so there's an end to hur titty.