wants onny tha’ll finnd me here ivery Setterdy, an awl sell thee owt aw have at thi own price,’ ’Well aw should think yo’ll be able to keep th’ bums off if yo sell all them,’ aw sed, an aw started for hooam, but somehah aw didn’t feel just as weel suited wi mi bargain as aw thowt aw should, an aw wor bothered aboon a bit wi wonderin’ whear to put ’em, for awd noa room for ’em nobbut ith cellar, an that wor as dark as a booit, but, hahivver, aw thowt they’d be a bit o’ company for me, for aw wor oft varry looansome, an aw should be able to have a fresh egg for mi braikfast whenivver aw liked.  As sooin as aw gate hooam aw lit a cannel an went into th’ cellar, takkin care to shut th’ door after me, an then aw unteed ther legs an set ’em at liberty.  They worn’t a varry prime lot, but aw didn’t care for that, for it wor th’ eggs aw wanted.  Th’ cock gave hissen a shak, an set up sich a cock-a-doodle-doo wol aw wor ommost deeafened—­aw nivver heeard sich a voice i’ mi life—­if he’d been trained he’d ha been a rare leeader for a rorytory—­an wol aw wor wonderin’ if it ud be safe to leeav ’em as they wor wol aw went to fotch ’em some screenins, one oth hens flew onto th’ shelf whear aw kept all mi jock an stuff.  ‘That’ll niver do,’ aw thowt, soa aw went towards it to tak it off, when th’ cock tried to foller, an wafted th’ cannel aght wi his wings an let fair at th’ top o’ my heead, so aw grabbed at th’ shelf to steady misen, when daan it coom wi all th’ plates an pots, an sich a clatter an crash yo’d ha thowt th’ haase had tummeld.  Th’ milk wor all spilt, an th’ breead an cheese wor rollin’ amang th’ coils, an a bowl o’ broth had emptied itsen onto th’ front o’ mi clean shirt, an aw wor sylin weet throo mi neck to mi feet.  Th’ hens wor chuckin’ i’ different corners, an th’ cock started crowin’ laader bi th’ hawff, an aw tried mi best to groap mi way up th’ steps into th’ haase.  Aw managed at last, an if yo could ha seen me as’ aw lukt just then, yo’d ha believed aw should niver be able ’to get cleean agean.  Mi heead wor covered wi mail, an mi clooas wor sooaked wi broth an ornamented wi bits o’ chopt carrots, an turnips, an onion skins, an hawf a pund o’ butter wor stickin’ to one booit heel an pairt ov a suet dumplin’ to t’other, an as aw wor standin’ wonderin’ which end to begin at to set things straight, a young woman ’at lived next door coom in to ax me if awd been buyin’ some hens, for shoo’d heeard th’ cock crowin’, an when shoo saw me i’ sich a pickle shoo held up her hands an skriked as if awd getten mi throit cut.  ‘Whativver has ta been dooin?’ shoo sed.  ‘Tha’rt fair flaysum to luk at.’  Shut th’ door, Dorothy,’ aw sed, ’an come in an see if yo can help me aght o’ this mess;’ soa she put th’ door to, an aw tell’d her all hah it had happened.  ‘Why,’ shoo sed, ’tha mun tak all thi clooase off, for they’ll have to goa into th’ tub-ther’ll nowt ivver get that greeas off but bailin’ watter an weshin licker; goa upstairs an get ’em all off an fling ’em