An Unreconstructed Man Repents

I'm going up tut top twenty.
I've thinking to do, aplenty.

I'm bloody sick of t'virus.
So I'm going to think on Iris.

She looks reet grand in wellies,
Even with two bellies.

I think perhaps we'll wed.
It's not so bad, when all's said.

A warm bottom in me bed,
And at dawn, pigs well fed.

But I really mustn't think like that,
Or she'll turn away, and it's goodbye prat.