"I Crys Crys Lik a babey when I Rits my trobel is so grat to have my Dafter so Crasey the Rick of our Lives such blows with such weapons of a sudden & strike such brouses is worth thirty ​millon of Dolors for a pouer man to have and others o brous me thay wont my Life to git my money & so I must seel & be a sitteson of the world it is a wonder I am a Live the burds will Chip offen before I Can git to sleep the Noys is so grate all hell No more a b bishups he wants to be Deatey Let sade beast goue once & twise act so Now toue much Laning make Rougs and fouls in the Eand Dig a Dich & fall in to it white Rop or a hare Rop taks them in time trouth"