They say that volks what lives in towns
Enjoys theirzels far more
That what us contry-bumkins do,
But I bant quite so sure.
I daun’ deny but what they haves
More ollerdys than us;
Us ab’m got the time to spare
To zot up sitch a fuss.
With Whit-Mondy an’ Boxin’ Day,
Bank Ollerdys and all,
(Say nort o’ closin’ wance a wik)
They never works ’t all.
A ollerdy’s no trait to they,
Caw, dally; daun’ ’ee talk!
To zee amusement you shude come
To Muddlecome Club Walk.

Tis aunly wance a year it comes
(Not very auf’n s’know),
And vat an’ lean in rain or sheen
All takes their pleasure tho. [then]
All work be stopped ’pon thikky day,
An’ all the vokes indoors
Be down-about as soon’s tis light
To do away the chores.
For young an’ old, an’ rich an’ poor,
Looks vorrad to the day,
And vinds their way to Muddlecome
The Twenty-ninth o’ May.

Amongs’ the maids an’ women-voke
Per weeks tis all the talk
What colour frock they’m gwain to wear
To Muddlecome Club Walk.
The chillern woards their ’appence up
Fer weeks an’ months bevore,
A bit o’ fairing they must have
If they be e’er so poor.
Cou’se ev’ry chap must try to hit
A nit off from the stick;
An’ ole Aunt Sally—they must heng
A baal or two to thik.

“Tis time to walk” says Uncle Tom
“Come if you’m gwain to volly,
Jim Tozer’s payin’ dibidends,
My ayes how he dith holley.
There goes the drums, the flags be up,
The band be gwain to play,
There’s aunly passen now to come,
Then us can get away.
Aw! Passen’s yer, an’ squire as well,
An’ doctor too I zee,
Vall into line, old up yer haids—”
The drums goes wan, two, dree.

An’ ’way-da’ go like sawjers bold
With haids up in the air,
An’ veet turned out, a noble sight
To zee, I do declare.
An’ so us walkid to the church
To hold a sarvice there.
Some be for doin’ ’way wi’ thik,
Mezell, I likes the prayer.
Some says the prayer daun’ do no gude;
Wull, it daun’ do no ’arm,
I likes volks to injoy theirzells
But let’s keep up the zalm.

An’ arter prayer us walkid ’gain;
Volks come in crowds to see.
Back to the mead be’ind the skule
Where lunch was gwain to be.
My, what a booth they haves it in,
The like you never zee,
Twude ’old vive hundred volk zot down,
They caals ’en a markee.
And there the tables was laid out
With plate an’ knive an’ vork,
Aw, now! Us do things viddy-like
To Muddlecome ' Club Walk.

But fust of all us all stan’s up
While passen saith the graze;
But soon as ever thik be done
Us vaals to work a-paze.
My ayes an’ limbs, what rounds o’ bafe,
What ligs o’ mutton Jan!
I simmed I never shude’n stap
Wance properly began.
They brings round braid an’ tetties too
In dishes made o’ cloam,
But us don't waste no room on they;
There's braid an’ tetties ’ome.

An’ whane us all had had our full,
Or so the cheerman thort,
(Though Dan’l said o’ cider he
Cude drinked another quart,
He’d had but zix, or zeb’m at laiste).
The cheerman knacked his knive,
An’ wance again us all stood up,
Thanks fer the meat to give.
An’ then they spaichified a bit,
One arter tother came,
Us did’n knaw what twas about,
But cheered ’em all the same.

An’ then us goes around the field
To have a bit o’ fun,
An’ try to get a coco-nit
An’ laugh at they with none.
Or on the ’obby ’osses ride;
I likes the round-about,
But ban’t much fer they swingin’ boats
I’m feared o’ tummellin’ out.
An’ then with dance an kiss-in ring
Us keeps it up till dark,
To bade, arf-dade, wi’ a Club Walk hade
An’ up, fresh as paint, with the lark.