Lots of those old guys couldn't spell, either. Look at Shakespeare.
And here's Robert Burns. He must have typed this with both thumbs:
Whare are you gaun, my bonie lass,
Whare are you gaun, my hinnie?
She answered me right saucilie,
"An errand for my minnie."
O whare live ye, my bonie lass,
O whare live ye, my hinnie?
"By
yon burnside,
gin ye
maun ken,
In a wee house wi' my minnie."
But I
foor up the glen at e'en.
To see my bonie lassie;
And
lang before the grey morn cam,
She was
na hauf sae saucie.
O weary
fa' the waukrife cock,
And the
foumart lay his crawin!
He wauken'd the
auld wife
frae her sleep,
A
wee blink or the dawin.
An angry wife I
wat she raise,
And o'er the bed she brocht her;
And
wi' a
meikle hazel
rung
She made her a weel-pay'd dochter.
O fare thee weel, my
bonie lass,
O fare thee well, my hinnie!
Thou art a gay
an' a bonnie lass,
But thou has a
waukrife minnie.