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It’s braw y’are its braw a’reet
Wi’ brilly natchers at yer feet
Tis one fer they an’ one fer me
T’ set tha brilly natchers free
So dinnae mumble dinnae fret
Tha has nae seen yon natchers yet
But when they come as come they will
Be sure t’stand rock solid still
Nae griping an’ nae felly soor
Wie brilly natchers at yer door

Editing stage: 


Glad you enjoyed it Beau, it's just a little bit of nonsense I wrote a while ago for a "nonsense poetry" competition, as you may have noticed there are one or two made up words in it, thanks for stopping by.


author comment

Writing dialect is a bitch and I think some people have it and some (me) do not. This poem is just plain fun. Robert Browning did a few like that and you just hear the person speaking. My favorite at this skill though, is Dave Sims, writer/artist/creator of "Cerebus, The Aardvark".

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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