'Tis the late arfternoon here on the farm. I mun spent most of it scrubbing the dishes with a twig and thinking of my dear Elphine, wandering the indifferent bare shoulders of the Downs. Elphine! I cowdled her as a wee mommet I'll have yer know!
Graceless, Pointless, Feckless, and Aimless 'ave all bin milked, though nomanny pails as they are all off their feed. Then Miss Judith made me drive the cart back and forth to Howling six times in preparation for retrieving Robert Poste's childe. 'Twere going on sixty-five years since I had taken up reins, but all must change for the coming of Robert Poste's child.
Now I stare out er the window, hoping for a glimpse of Elphine. Elphine! Where are you my birdling? Did I cowdle thee as a mommet for this?