Thas gonna mucky me forehead
wi old codgers ashes what we burned
yonks since as if it could remove
our guilt and sinfulness for doing so.

As Tha finger paints a cross on me bonce
al see our ancestor crinkle and pop
Like it were fireworks and watch all
harshness and fret go up in smoke.

Al have to go mi sen a wesh afore
a sees our lass else it’ll get her
all wonderin’ an we don’t want that.
Don’t want folk pryin’. No need.

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