AYE, aye, the leäne wi’ flow'ry zides

A-kept so lew, by hazzle-wrides, sheltered by hazel-clumps

Wi’ beds o’ grægles out in bloom, bluebells

Below the timber's windless gloom,

An’ geäte that I've a-swung,

An’ rod as he's a-hung, ridden on

When I wer young, in Woakley Coomb.

'Twer there at feäst we all did pass

The evenèn on the leänezide grass,

Out where the geäte do let us drough, through

Below the woak-trees in the lew, oak-trees, shelter

In merry geämes an’ fun

That meäde us skip an’ run,

Wi’ burnèn zun, an’ sky o’ blue.

But still there come a scud that drove

The titt'rèn maïdens vrom the grove;

An’ there a-left wer flow'ry mound,

'Ithout a vaïce, 'ithout a sound,

Unless the aïr did blow

Drough ruslèn leaves, an’ drow through, throw

The raïn drops low, upon the ground.

I linger'd there an’ miss'd the naïse; noise

I linger'd there an’ miss'd our jaÿs;

I miss'd woone soul beyond the rest; one

The maïd that I do like the best.

Vor where her vaïce is gaÿ

An’ where her smiles do plaÿ,

There's always jaÿ vor ev'ry breast. joy

Vor zome vo'k out abroad ha’ me'th, folk, outside, mirth

But nwone at hwome bezide the he'th; hearth

An’ zome ha’ smiles vor strangers’ view,

An’ frowns vor kith an’ kin to rue;

But her sweet vaïce do vall,

Wi’ kindly words to all,

Both big an’ small, the whole day drough. through

An’ when the evenèn sky wer peäle,

We heärd the warblèn nightèngeäle,

A-drawèn out his lwonesome zong,

In windèn music down the drong; lane

An’ Jenny vrom her he'th, hearth

Come out, though not in me'th, mirth

But held her breath, to hear his zong.

Then, while the bird wi’ oben bill

Did warble on, her vaïce wer still;

An’ as she stood avore me, bound

In stillness to the flow'ry mound,

“The bird's a jaÿ to zome,” joy

I thought, ―but when he's dum, silent

Her vaïce will come, wi’ sweeter sound.”