Bewdy

“[…]Say,” she continued, “ I wish I had time ta take ya to a bewdy parlor. Yew'd look cute by the time I had ya face fixed and ya eyebrows done and ya hair waved.”

This was bewdy.

Lovely smile, doncha know. She wos a bewdy, pretty as a rosella.

The day before the Press Club luncheon, I was in Traralgon, Victoria, when a fellow came up to me in a bar and said, ‘Chippy, that bloody slogan suits you down to the ground. It′s a bewdy.’

‘[…]Look at this bewdy.’ Romeo held out a fat rose from the bush he was pruning.

But she still cooks a bewdy of a roast.

‘'This little bewdy I cut out of a magazine and stuck down on a piece of card... Don′t tell anyone, mind. The tourists love it.’

Course the silly bugger fell in love with this Yank bewdy called Linda Koslowski and that was the end to his long term marriage.

I scored us a couple of tickets to the match on Saturday. — Bewdy, mate!

The young woman gave them the fingers up and walked back disdainfully, ignoring their whistles and shouts of, ‘Bewdy, you showed him.’

“Bewdy!” said Hugh, as he turned away to get his breakfast.

‘Listen, I′ll give it some thought,’ I said. ‘I′ll come back to you tomorrow, okay?’ I was being polite. ‘Tomorrow? Bewdy,’ said Mallon.