’Tis jist avore the candle-light
Do redden windows up at night,
An’ peäler stars do light the vogs
A-risèn vrom the brooks an’ bogs,
An’ when in barkens yoppèn dogs
Do bark at vo’k a-comèn near,
Or growl a-lis’enèn to hear
The veäiry veet that I do meet
Below the row o’ beech trees.
Dree times a-year do bless the road
O’ womanhood a-gwaïn abrode:
When vu’st her litty veet do tread
The eärly Maÿ’s white deäisy bed:
When leaves be all a-scattered dead;
An’ when the winter’s vrozen grass
Do glissen in the zun lik’ glass
Vor veäiry veet that I do meet
Below the row o’ beech trees.
MORNÈN.
When vu’st the breakèn day is red,
An’ grass is dewy wet,
An’ roun’ the blackberry’s a-spread
The spider’s gliss’nèn net,
Then I do dreve the cows across
The brook that’s in a vog,
While they do trot, an’ bleäre, an’ toss
Their heads to hook the dog;
Vor the cock do gi’e me warnèn,
An’ light or dark,
So brisk’s a lark,
I’m up at break o’ mornèn.
Avore the maïden’s sleep’s a-broke
By window-strikèn zun,
