But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, zome mwore
Will come on in your pleäzen to bloom an’ to die;
An’ the zummer will always have maïdens avore
Their doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
Vor daughters ha’ mornèn when mothers ha’ night,
An’ there’s beauty alive when the feäirest is dead;
As when woone sparklèn weäve do zink down vrom the light,
Another do come up an’ catch it instead.
Zoo smile on, happy maïdens! but I shall noo mwore
Zee the maïd I do miss under evenèn’s dim sky;
An’ my heart is a-touch’d to zee you out avore
The doors, vor to chatty an’ zee vo’k goo by.
THE SHEPHERD O’ THE FARM.
Oh! I be shepherd o’ the farm,
Wi’ tinklèn bells an’ sheep-dog’s bark,
An’ wi’ my crook a-thirt my eärm,
Here I do rove below the lark.
An’ I do bide all day among
The bleäten sheep, an’ pitch their vwold;
An’ when the evenèn sheädes be long.
Do zee em all a-penn’d an’ twold.
An’ I do zee the friskèn lam’s,
Wi’ swingèn taïls an’ woolly lags,
A-playèn roun’ their veedèn dams,
An’ pullèn o’ their milky bags.
An’ I bezide a hawthorn tree,
Do’ zit upon the zunny down.
While sheädes o’ zummer clouds do vlee
Wi’ silent flight along the groun’.
