Old Pete Paraday, his mind works very slow;
But, when it fastens on a thoughts, he will not let it go.
He measures it and mumbles it until an answer comes,
Just as he mumbles bits and scraps between his toothless gums.
'I likes to think a bit,' says he. 'An', thinkin', by and large
On these 'ere modrun fashions like, 'as fairly riz me garge.'
Old Pete Paraday, he thinks the joke is rich;
''Cen-TEN-ary! Cen-TEEN-ary!' Did ever you 'ear sich?
I never knowed the like,' says he: 'sich argymints as those.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem