Mally

Nay, Gransir, thoo moant gan sailin’, Thoo mun bide at yam to-neet; At eighty-two thoo sudn’t think O’ t’ Whitby fishin’ fleet. North cone’s up on t’ flagstaff, There’s a cap-full o’ wind i’ t’ bay; T’ waves wap loud on t’ harbour bar, Thoo can hardlins fish to-day.