An’ now woone wing is all you’d vind
O’ thik girt house a-left behind;
An’ only woone wold stwonen tun
’S a-stannèn to the raïn an’ zun,—
An’ all’s undone that he’d a-done;
The brook ha’ now noo call to staÿ
To vill his pon’ or clim’ his baÿ,
A-runnèn down to gramfer’s.
When woonce, in heavy raïn, the road
At Grenley bridge wer overflow’d,
Poor Sophy White, the pleäces pride,
A-gwaïn vrom market, went to ride
Her pony droo to tother zide;
But vound the streäm so deep an’ strong,
That took her off the road along
The hollow down to gramfer’s.
’Twer dark, an’ she went on too vast
To catch hold any thing she pass’d;
Noo bough hung over to her hand,
An’ she could reach noo stwone nor land,
Where woonce her little voot could stand;
Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,
Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,
Till took up dead at gramfer’s.
SLEEP DID COME WI’ THE DEW.
O when our zun’s a-zinkèn low,
How soft’s the light his feäce do drow
Upon the backward road our mind
Do turn an’ zee a-left behind;
When we, in childhood’s days did vind
Our jaÿ among the gil’cup flow’rs,
All drough the zummer’s zunny hours;
An’ sleep did come wi’ the dew.
