Ay, dwainie!—my Dwainie!
    The lurloo ever sings,
A tremor in his flossy crest
    And in his glossy wings.
And Dwainie!—My Dwainie!
    The winno-welvers call;—
But Dwainie hides in Spirkland
    And answers not at all.

The teeper twitters Dwainie!—
    The tcheucker on his spray
Teeters up and down the wind,...