"Trouth I afirme I am so much of A foule the Rougs want to git my Jouels & Loavs & Littel fishes without my Leave Leave is Lit thay all Caled me A foull forty years Now I will Call all fouls but onnes men Now to brove me A foull I Never Could sing Nor play Cards Nor Dance Nor tell A Long storey Nor play on Any mouskel Nor pray Nor make A pen when I was young I Could play on A Jous harp it would mak my mouth warter and the Ladeys sumthing warter gess what I sade Nothing A good Lafe is beter than Crying A Clam will Cry And warter wen thay are out of there Ellemen so wee the same if I had Not the gost in my house I would I mean give Lite to my brothers & sisters and have A pease all over the world and beat the trouthe into my frinds houe goud it is houe onnest it would be and houe man kind has bin in posed upon & houe thay have bin blinded with untrouths gosts and mister Divels there is Now None of that order all Lye the mesonek if thay wilt make a book of trouth I will give the Creaters but I will take the Chare and put my frind bonne partey on my Rte hand And the grat ginrel meroue on my Left hand A Nuf to give the sword is in the banks A Emper only be still I will take the helm in Love I am A quaker ​but I have so Littel sense I Cant Deseave I Can swep my hous & git all A Noue gelt & goue out of hell is bless Law and trouth and Reason on my side it must be done when I git my worthy widdow it is Dun Not one word of Anger as Long as I Live to a A good woman I a firme"