ta?"

"Well, try agean," says Tom, "nah then, lift! lift! Oh-h-h! Howd on!
what the hangmit are ta doin?"

"What's up?" says th' landlord.

"Can't ta see, lumpheead! tha's ommost brokken mi fingers ageean that
step!"

"Tha should keep thi fingers aght o'th' gate, an' then they willn't get
brokken."

"If tha doesn't mind what tha'rt saying, aw 'll pitch booath thee an' it
to th' botham; an' it will ha' to goa thear yet, for it'll niver come up
this way. They must be fooils 'at mak stuff ta big ta get up th' steps.
Aw once made a mangel 'at aw could tak up steps hauf this width."

"Well, its net gooin up, that's plain enuff, Tom, soa what mun we do
nah?"

"We mun get it back, an' try to pull it in 'at th' charner winder, but
we shall want a stee."

"Oh, we can sooin get that," says th' landlord, "just thee stop an' see
'at noabdy touches it, an' aw'll goa borrow one."

Off he went, an' wor sooin back wi' th' stee; an' they reared it up
agean th' charner winder an' teed a roap raand th' middle o'th' peanner,
an' wol th' landlord went up th' stairs to pool, Tom stopt daan to put
it on an' shove, an' it began to goa up varry nicely, an' Tom followed
to steady it. When it had getten abaght hauf way, th' stee began to bend
a gooid bit. "Steady fair," says th' landlord, "tha munnot come ony
farther, Tom: if tha does, it'll smash! Aw think awst be able to manage
nah." Soa Tom went back, an' th' landlord kept poolin it up a bit at a
time. As it kept gooin up an' up, it kept gettin a bit moor to one side.
"Ha is it nah, Tom?"

"Oh, its all serene--th' centre o' gravitum's all reight up to nah,"
says Tom.

Up it went--little an' little--an' ivery time it stirr'd it gat a bit
moor off th' edge, an' just as he'd getten it to th' winder bottom,
ovver it went an' daan it fell wi' a crash an' a buzz, like a volley o'
donce music shot aght ov a cannon, an' aght coom all th' neighbors to
see what wor up.

An' it did luk a seet, reight enuff. Th' top had flown off, an' one leg
stuck aght one way an tother stuck aght another. It wodn't ha' luk'd
hauf as ill if it had been an owd deal box o' some sooart; but a grand
mogny peanner--it luk'd just awful. Its like a druffen chap 'ats dressed
i' black cloath--he allus luks war nor one 'ats dress'd i' fushten.

"Well, what's to be done nah?" says th' landlord, when he'd getten daan
ta Tom agean, "tha reckons to knaw a bit o' summat abaght music, doesn't
ta? What mun wi' do wi' th