IF theäse day's work an’ burnèn sky this

'V'a-zent hwome you so tired as I,

Let's zit an’ rest 'ithin the screen

O’ my wold bow'r upon the green; old

Where I do goo myself an’ let

The evenèn aiër cool my het, heat

When dew do wet the grasses bleädes,

A-quiv'rèn in the dusky sheädes.

There yonder poplar trees do plaÿ

Soft music, as their heads do swaÿ,

While wind, a-rustlèn soft or loud,

Do stream ageän their lofty sh'oud; canopy

An’ seem to heal the ranklèn zore

My mind do meet wi’ out o’ door,

When I've a-bore, in downcast mood,

Zome evil where I look'd vor good.

O’ they two poplars that do rise

So high avore our naïghbours’ eyes,

A-zet by gramfer, hand by hand, Grandpa

Wi’ grammer, in their bit o’ land; Grandma

The woone upon the western zide one

Wer his, an’ woone wer grammer's pride,

An’ since they died, we all do teäke

Mwore ceäre o'm vor the wold vo'k's seäke. of them, old folk's

An’ there, wi’ stems a-growèn tall trunks

Avore the houses mossy wall,

The while the moon ha’ slowly past

The leafy window, they've a-cast

Their sheädes 'ithin the window peäne; shadows

While childern have a-grown to men,

An’ then ageän ha’ left their beds,

To bear their childern's heavy heads.