Me, nao sire, I don't howd with these Board Schools Thay larn the booys too much, my thinkin, now An' what I see, there's jest as many fools As when thay put the young uns to the plough I ent owd-fashioned, nao, I loike to see The young uns comin' on . But now-a-days They say an' do sich things git over me An' I carnt howd 'ith these new fangled ways I howd with larning, mind, but let 'em larn Saime way as I did, not that stuff o' theirs Larn 'em the proper way to thetch a barn Larn 'em the way to sao a field o' tares Geoggerfy! now what on arth's the sense A larnin' of them how the moon go roun? An' all about Ameriky an' Frence An' plaices tother side o' Lunnon town?
	My Booy he come to me the tother night D'yer knaow, he say . the warld an' you an' me Are tarning on our axles- sich a rate You woom believe? But there, tha's right, says he I tarned he on his axles, you be boun I cop he one. That made me reg'lar riles That fairly did. The world a tarnin roun To hear sich stuff an' nons'nse from a child! N' more I don't howd with them thingmibobs Them Parish Councils wot they started now There's Tom and Harry think they're reg'lar nobs Cos thay goo there kickin' up a row Look at that Council meeting her las' week Why bless me saoul if Tom din taike the chair An' Parson setting 'gin the door as meek As some owd sheep, I tell year: that he were An' what d'yer think they done? wh' nought o' course Cos there aint nothin' here want doin' to N' wonner Parson he look defful cross Comin' away: I see him didn't you? An' I don't howd 'ith these ere ways at Charch A singin o' the Scripters an' that ere Dressin' theirselves in nightgownds stiff wi' starch; The boible never tell 'em that, I swear They say Ahmen instead o' Aimen now; Tha's only jes to be contrairy like! An' when that come "the Glory" be thay bow An' cartsey , Lor , I'd like to gim a shaike D'yer think the aingels sing Ahmen? not they An' when these ere are dead an' gone th'll see Th'aa give it to 'em straight up there, th'll say You ent a go'n to sing along o' we I ent owd fashioned, nao, I loike to see The young uns comin' on. But now a days They say an' do sich things git over me An' I carnt howd 'ith these new fangled ways.