Now unknown veet do beät the vloor,
An’ unknown han’s do shut the door,
An’ unknown men do ride abrode,
An’ hwome ageän on thik wold road,
Drough geätes all now a-hung anew.
Noo mind but mine ageän can call
Wold feäces back around the wall,
Down there below, or here above,
Wi’ bright-ey’d me’th below the tree.
Aye, pride mid seek the crowded pleäce
To show his head an’ frownèn feäce,
An’ pleasure vlee, wi’ goold in hand,
Vor zights to zee vrom land to land,
Where winds do blow on seas o’ blue:—
Noo wealth wer mine to travel wide
Vor jäy, wi’ Pleasure or wi’ Pride:
My happiness wer here above
The feäst, wi’ me’th below the tree.
The wild rwose now do hang in zight,
To mornèn zun an’ evenèn light,
The bird do whissle in the gloom,
Avore the thissle out in bloom,
But here alwone the tree do leän.
The twig that woonce did whiver there
Is now a limb a-wither’d beäre:
Zoo I do miss the sheäde above
My head, an’ me’th below the tree.
TREAT WELL YOUR WIFE.
No, no, good Meäster Collins cried,
Why you’ve a good wife at your zide;
Zoo do believe the heart is true
That gi’ed up all bezide vor you,
