An’ while the trees do stan’ that grow’d
Vor them, or walls or steps they know’d
Do bide in pleäce, they’ll always come
To look upon their e’thly hwome.
Zoo I would always let alwone
The girt wold house o’ mossy stwone:
I woulden pull a wing o’n down,
To meäke ther speechless sheädes to frown;
Vor when our souls, mid woonce become
Lik’ their’s, all bodiless an’ dumb,
How good to think that we mid vind
Zome thought vrom them we left behind,
An’ that zome love mid still unite
The hearts o’ blood wi’ souls o’ light.
Zoo, if ’twer mine, I’d let alwone
The girt wold house o’ mossy stwone.
A WITCH.
There’s thik wold hag, Moll Brown, look zee, jus’ past!
I wish the ugly sly wold witch
Would tumble over into ditch;
I woulden pull her out not very vast.
No, no. I don’t think she’s a bit belied,
No, she’s a witch, aye, Molly’s evil-eyed.
Vor I do know o’ many a-withrèn blight
A-cast on vo’k by Molly’s mutter’d spite;
She did, woone time, a dreadvul deäl o’ harm
To Farmer Gruff’s vo’k, down at Lower Farm.
Vor there, woone day, they happened to offend her,
An’ not a little to their sorrow,
Because they woulden gi’e or lend her
Zome’hat she come to bag or borrow;
An’ zoo, they soon began to vind
