O Wado

And as the ould song o’ the flod disarm,
so I enform
a wyndow then calmly listen to it swarm.
Wet, freezy storm,
ah thé rhymed weaters, but who’le  fain…
thez wayis teh th’ flore, m’ sill to lain,
un-saed, spil’d, run,
whirr ever gun
to score one illatif refrain.