O’ foam did leäp below woone’s veet,
The pleäce vor me wer Leeburn Mill.
An’ while below the mossy wheel
All day the foamèn stream did roar,
An’ up in mill the floatèn meal
Did pitch upon the sheäkèn vloor.
We then could vind but vew han’s still,
Or veet a-restèn off the ground,
An’ seldom hear the merry sound
O’ geämes a-plaÿ’d at Leeburn Mill.
But when they let the stream goo free,
Bezide the drippèn wheel at rest,
An’ leaves upon the poplar-tree
Wer dark avore the glowèn west;
An’ when the clock, a-ringèn sh’ill,
Did slowly beät zome evenèn hour,
Oh! then ’ithin the leafy bow’r
Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill.
An’ when November’s win’ did blow,
Wi’ hufflèn storms along the plaïn,
An’ blacken’d leaves did lie below
The neäked tree, a-zoak’d wi’ raïn,
I werden at a loss to vill
The darkest hour o’ raïny skies,
If I did vind avore my eyes
The feäces down at Leeburn Mill.
PRAISE O’ DO’SET.
We Do’set, though we mid be hwomely,
Be’nt asheäm’d to own our pleäce;
An’ we’ve zome women not uncomely;
Nor asheäm’d to show their feäce:
