An’ birds o’ day a-zingèn clear,
An’ leaves, that I mid zit an’ hear
A-rustlèn near, when birds be still.
RIDEN HWOME AT NIGHT.
Oh! no, I quite injaÿ’d the ride
Behind wold Dobbin’s heavy heels,
Wi’ Jeäne a-prattlèn at my zide,
Above our peäir o’ spinnèn wheels,
As grey-rin’d ashes’ swaÿèn tops
Did creak in moonlight in the copse,
Above the quiv’rèn grass, a-beät
By wind a-blowèn drough the geät.
If weary souls did want their sleep,
They had a-zent vor sleep the night;
Vor vo’k that had a call to keep
Awake, lik’ us, there still wer light.
An’ He that shut the sleepers’ eyes,
A-waïtèn vor the zun to rise,
Ha’ too much love to let em know
The ling’rèn night did goo so slow.
But if my wife did catch a zight
O’ zome queer pollard, or a post,
Poor soul! she took en in her fright
To be a robber or a ghost.
A two-stump’d withy, wi’ a head,
Mus’ be a man wi’ eärms a-spread;
An’ foam o’ water, round a rock,
Wer then a drownèn leädy’s frock.
Zome staddle stwones to bear a mow,
Wer dancèn veäries on the lag;
An’ then a snow-white sheeted cow
