Foor, I am ee tha 'oord hath broot...tae seddel ael oold scoor's, noor aim aie oon tae meek a soond, tha eesn't treew...saw sheel ye sae...eef ye eem ad mae. Thane ah weel eend und paece weel bae...foor ye und mae. Be nah a'free'd tah die, foor aie ahm nee.
Tis awl a paece, und drame beeyoon...oonce wae oor goon, tis nah tae shede a teer, Tis boo' tae sae, eet ah stoops heer...noo oother wee...soo coom tae dee, oor dah, weel ah bae seddl'd eer...tha wee at ahwees woos.
Written by Bruce James Clyde 2016, at Deming, New Mexico
Art: ArtFire.com, magic of merlin
Translation, to common english:
Be careful, what you say, of such a one...as me, for if I end, in any way, a thousand like, be crawling up your ass, or any one of them, be harmed, a million more, on that very same day, be hatching poetry, that bring you down...until your dying day.
For, I am he, that word hath brought...to settle all old scores, nor am I one to make a sound, that isn't true...so shall you see...if you aim at me. Then, I will end, and peace will be...for you and me. Be not afraid to die, for I am not.
Tis all a peace, and dream beyond...once we are gone, tis none to shed a tear, tis but to say, it all stops here...no other way...so, come to die, or not, will all be settled here...the way it always was.
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