  What would you do wi’ a doughter— Pray wi’ her, bensil[1] her, flout her?— Say, what would you do wi’ a daughter That’s marra to Bonney[2] hissen? I prayed wi’ her first, of a Sunday, When chapil was lowsin’ for t’ neet; An’ I laid all her cockaloft marlocks[3] ’Fore th’ Almighty’s mercy-seat. When I looked for her tears o’ repentance, I jaloused[4] that I saw her laugh; An’ she said that t’ Powers o’ Justice Would scatter my words like chaff. Then I bensilled her hard in her cham’er, As I bensils owd Neddy i’ t’ cart. If prayers willent teach thee, my dolly, Happen whip-stock will mak thy tears start. But she stood there as chuff as a mawmet,[5] Not one chunt’rin[6] word did she say: But she hoped that t’ blooid o’ t’ martyrs Would waish all my sins away. Then I thought, mebbe floutin’ will mend her; So I watched while she cam out o’ t’ mill, And afore all yon Wyke lads an’ lasses I fleered at her reight up our hill. She winced when she heeard all their girnin’, Then she whispered, a sob i’ her throat: “I reckon I’ll noan think o’ weddin’ While women are given their vote.” What would you do wi’ a doughter— Pray wi’ her, bensil her, flout her?— Say, what would you do wi’ a daughter That’s marra to Bonney hissen?
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