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Who Is The Author?

The following literary curiosity found its way recently into the query
column of a Boston newspaper. Nobody seems to know who wrote it:

O I wish I was in eden
Where all the beastes is feedin,
the Pigs an cows an osses.
And the long tale Bull wot tosses
the Bulldog and the Rabbit,
acaus it is his habbit;
Where Lions, Tigurs, monkees,
And them long-ear'd things call'd Donkeys,
Meat all together daylee
With Crockedyles all Skaley,
Where sparros on the bushis
Sings to there mates, the thrushis,
an Hawks and Littel Rens
Wawks about like Cocks and Ens,
One looking at the tuther
for all the World like a Bruther.
Where no quarlin is or Phytin,
its tru wot ime aritin.
O for a wauk at even,
somewhere abowt 6 or 7,
When the Son be gwain to bed,
with his fase all fyree red.
O for the grapes and resins
Wot ripens at all seesins;
the appels and the Plumbs
As Big as my 2 thums;
the hayprecocks an peechis,
Wot all within our reech is,
An we mought pick an heat,
paying nothing for the treat.
O for the pooty flouers
A bloomin at all ours,
So that a large Bokay
Yew may gether any day
Of ev'ry flour that blose
from Colleflour to rose.

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