Aunt’s Tantrums
Why
ees,
aunt
Anne's
a
little
staïd,
But
kind
an'
merry,
poor
wold
maïd!
If
we
don't
cut
her
heart
wi'
slights,
She'll
zit
an'
put
our
things
to
rights,
Upon
a
hard
day's
work,
o'
nights;
But
zet
her
up,
she's
jis'
lik'
vier,
An'
woe
betide
the
woone
that's
nigh
'er.
When
she
is
in
her
tantrums.
She'll
toss
her
head,
a-steppèn
out
Such
strides,
an'
fling
the
païls
about;
An'
slam
the
doors
as
she
do
goo,
An'
kick
the
cat
out
wi'
her
shoe,
Enough
to
het
her
off
in
two.
The
bwoys
do
bundle
out
o'
house,
A-lassen
they
should
get
a
towse,
When
aunt
is
in
her
tantrums.
She
whurr'd,
woone
day,
the
wooden
bowl
In
such
a
veag
at
my
poor
poll;
It
brush'd
the
heäir
above
my
crown,
An'
whizz'd
on
down
upon
the
groun',
An'
knock'd
the
bantam
cock
right
down,
But
up
he
sprung,
a-teäkèn
flight
Wi'
tothers,
cluckèn
in
a
fright,
Vrom
aunt
in
such
a
tantrum!
But
Dick
stole
in,
an'
reach'd
en
down
The
biggest
blather
to
be
voun',
An'
crope
an'
put
en
out
o'
zight
Avore
the
vire,
an'
plimm'd
en
tight
An
crack'd
en
wi'
the
slice
thereright
She
scream'd,
an'
bundled
out
o'
house,
An'
got
so
quiet
as
a
mouse,--
It
frighten'd
off
her
tantrum.
