Porcy Mane

I had a gal, a rare nice gal, down in Wroxham way She were whooly nice ter me in the ole school days. She would smile all the while, but Daddy dint know all What she used ter say ter me behind the garden wall. 'Hev yew gotta loight, boy? hev yew gotta loight, boy?' Molly Windley, she smook like a chimley, But she's my little nicoteen gal.