“Tha young taistrel!” sed Sammywell, but he off after it as hard as he could, an a fine race it gave him.  Up one street an daan another they went, but Sammywell’s blooid wor up an he worn’t gooin to be lickt wi a bit ov a chicken.  Th’ streets wor lined wi fowk gooin to chapel or church, an they shook ther heeads in a varry meeanin way, an some on em turned up th’ whites o’ ther een as if they wor tryin to see th’ inside o’ ther heeads, but Sammywell went on an nivver lost seet o’th chicken.  They’d ommost getten to th’ taan hall, when they coom to a spice shop an th’ door wor oppen, an in it popt.  “Nah, aw’ve getten thi!” he sed, an he follered it in an shut th’ door.

Th’ young woman i’th shop wor capt when it jumpt onto th’ caanter.  “Catch it, mistress!” sed Sammy, an shoo clickt at it, but it flew i’th winder, an nivver mind if it didn’t mak th’ mint drops fly!  Then it gate aght an swept all th’ glass ornaments off th’ shelf an peearked up on th’ shandileer; Sammy struck at it wi his umberell, but he missed it, an gave th’ young woman’s heead sich a crack wol it rang like a pot.  Then he oppened th’ door an as luck wod have it, it flew aght.  Sammy flew aght too, an th’ woman ran after him, holdin booath hands to her heead an cryin “Murder!”

That wor enough to start all th’ lads ’at should ha been at Sundy schooil after Sammywell, but he didn’t care.  After it he ran an at last it flew into a ass-middin, an nah he felt sewer on it.  It tried to fly aght but it couldn’t, but ther wor noa way to get it but to goa in after it.  He wished he hadn’t had on his best Sundy suit, but ther wor no help for it.  He managed to crawl in, an in a minnit he wor up to his knees i’ ass an puttaty pillins.  Th’ chicken raised sich a dust wi flutterin abaat wol he wor ommost chooaked an blinded, but he grabbed it an wor sooin aght, lukkin as if somedy’d been shakin a flaar seck ovver his heead.  Th’ lads set up a shaat, but he tuk noa nooatice, an made th’ best of his way towards hooam, takkin care net to goa past th’ spice shop, for he didn’t think it wor a proper day for business like that ’at wod be waitin for him.  Mally an Hepsabah follered bi a lot o’th naybors, wor commin to see what had become on him, an when they saw what a pictur he’d made ov hissen, they fairly skriked wi laffin—­all but Mally.  Shoo wor soa mad wol shoo couldn’t spaik.

Just as they’d getten to th’ end o’th ginnel, old Zekil saw him, and sed—­“Heigh up, thear!  What are ta dooin wi that chicken?”

“Awm takkin it whear it belangs.”

“That’s my chicken, put it daan an mell on it agean at thi peril.”

“Nay, Zekil,” sed Mally, “it’s awr chicken, for Sammywell bowt it yesterdy an its laid us a egg this mornin.”

“Aw tell yo it’s mine!  It’s nivver laid onny eggs, for it’s a cock.  Aw can own it becoss its tail feathers is brokken.”

Sammywell lukt at it, “aw wish its neck had been brokken,” he sed.