An’ there the girt Year-clock did goo
By day an’ night, vor ever true,
Wi’ mighty wheels a-rollèn round
’Ithout a beat, ’ithout a sound.
NOT GOO HWOME TO-NIGHT.
No, no, why you’ve noo wife at hwome
Abidèn up till you do come,
Zoo leäve your hat upon the pin,
Vor I’m your waïter. Here’s your inn,
Wi’ chair to rest, an’ bed to roost;
You have but little work to do
This vrosty time at hwome in mill,
Your vrozen wheel’s a-stannèn still,
The sleepèn ice woont grind vor you.
No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,
Good Robin White, o’ Craglin mill.
As I come by, to-day, where stood
Wi’ neäked trees, the purple wood,
The scarlet hunter’s ho’ses veet
Tore up the sheäkèn ground, wind-fleet,
Wi’ reachèn heads, an’ pankèn hides;
The while the flat-wing’d rooks in vlock,
Did zwim a-sheenèn at their height;
But your good river, since last night,
War all a-vroze so still’s a rock.
No, no, you woont goo hwome to-night,
Good Robin White, o’ Craglin mill.
Zee how the hufflèn win’ do blow,
A-whirlèn down the giddy snow:
Zee how the sky’s a-weärèn dim,
Behind the elem’s neäked lim’,
