Found with Google Book Search in "Specimens of Cornish Provincial Dialect by William Sandys, 1846:

JAN KNUCKEY AND GRAACEY.

Jan Knuckey were a miner bould
As ever was to Bâl,
And cruel good cu'd wrastle too
And thraw a tidy fall.

When prink'd too en es Soonda' cloase
He braave and proper seem'd,
At Church too the base viol scraaped
Until the great crowd scream'd.

Now, up along to Church-town lived
A fine and thoomping daame
She were pure stout, as were her poorse,
Aunt Graacey were her naame.

Now Graacey had for many years
A little shop like keep'd
Where things for ould and childer too
Promiskusly was keep'd.

Tea, doat figs, and poldavy too
Cloam buzzas on the planching,
Scaal'd cream, and crocks, and coajer's end,
And apples ripe for scranching.

'Baccy, with cowals for the chowters,
Saalt pilchers, and some 'taties,
Eggs, clidgy, traade, and hoganbags,
Gowks, sparables, and lattice.

Aunt Graacey had some mabjers too,
A pig's-crow and a midden,
And sometimes sould a fine fat fowl,
Sometimes the piggy-whidden.

Some cobshans she'd a saaved away;
Jan hadn't a got none;
Yet, thof she were a titch too ould,
He thoft they might be one.

But Graacey were a keen chap too,
She were no drumbledrane;
And weth her fangings or herself,
To part she dedn't a meane.

Well Jan, he fetch'd es coorse one day
To tell es mind to Graace,
But when he got un ento doors
She were not en the plaace.

A kicklish fuss he heerd up stairs,
And soon 'caase why he knew,
The seeling being deef was scat
And Graace fell half way through.

What am I best to do?" says Jan,
"She es no pedn-paly;
She caan't scrouge through, she'll sure be squabb'd,
She do make bad qoose raally."

At last she squeedg'd and pooted through,
Flopt on the taable there,
And over-thraw'd as she fall'd down
A hepping-stock and cheer.

The cream were scud, the pilchers squash'd,
Some 'taties were mash'd quite,
Jan 'gen the winder joomp'd back mazed
And crazed a squeer outright.

At length she sot herself to rights
And made the plaace look fitty,
'Twere plase sure en a cruel shaape,
Et raally were a pity.

Then Knuckey rubb'd es hat all round,
And squinnied on the flure,
Next thraw'd es eyes about the shop,
And then agen the doore.

"Arrear! Aunt Graace, how ar'ee then?
I wish thee bean't abruis'd,
Thee down along ded'st come to shop
By roaad that esn't used.

Tes boostering work, to make good coose,
Weth shanks on nothing dancing
I thoft the punnion-end were in,
When thee pooted through the planching."

"Now, hould tha tongue, thee lutter-pouch,
I'm quite bedoled and frighted;
I knock'd ma cheens ageri the scoanse,"
Says Grace, "when I alighted."

Says Jan, "It were an awkward cant,
But don't be creening pray;
And lev us quat while thee dost hear
What I've a got to say :

"That there is this, I do'ee love,
When shall us be axed out?
Lev you and I keep company—"
Graace giv'd un then a clout.

"Thee mazedish moile! thee dreuling dog
Thee quilkin! thee timdoodle!
I be axed out! keep company!
Get thee to doors, thee noodle.

"Thee lobbar, thee art totling 'fath,
Sich imperance I ne'er seed;
What, give my cobshans up to thee!
Be Mistress Jan endeed!"

"Auh! skid the wheel," than Jan ded cry,
"And dont'ee drive so forthy,
Lev's screedle o'er the fire a bit,
I knaw thee'st find me worthy.

"Now lev us have no fussing more
And doant'ee tak't amiss
Ef that I ax before we parts
A little crum of kiss."

But Graacey's bristles now was up,
She scat and poot by turns,
Then cotch'd un by the scuff of's neck
And footched un through the durnes.

The coose of love et hav been said
Do seldom suant run,
Ef en soome caases et may be
Jan Knuckey's wasn't one.