NOW the yollow zun, a-runnën

Daily round a smaller bow, arc

Still wi’ cloudless sky's a-zunnèn

All the sheenèn land below. shining

Vewer blossoms now do blow, bloom

But the fruit's a-showèn

Reds an’ blues, an’ purple hues,

By the leaves a-glowèn.

Now the childern be a-pryèn

Roun’ the berried bremble-bow,

Zome a-laughèn, woone a-cryèn one

Vor the slent her frock do show. tear

Bwoys be out a-pullèn low

Slooe-boughs, or a-runnèn sloe-

Where, on zides of hazzle-wrides, hazel-clumps

Nuts do hang a-zunnèn.

Where do reach roun’ wheat-ricks yollow

Oves o’ thatch, in long-drawn ring, eaves

There, by stubbly hump an’ hollow,

Russet-dappled dogs do spring.

Soon my apple-trees wull fling

Bloomèn balls below em,

That shall hide, on ev'ry zide

Ground where we do drow em.