AT Woodcombe farm, wi’ ground an’ tree

Hallow'd by times o’ youthvul glee,

At Chris'mas time I spent a night

Wi’ feäces dearest to my zight;

An’ took my wife to tread, woonce mwore, once

Her maïden hwome's vorseäken vloor,

An’ under stars that slowly wheel'd

Aloft, above the keen-aïr'd vield,

While night bedimm'd the rus'lèn copse,

An’ darken'd all the ridges’ tops,

The hall, a-hung wi’ holly, rung

Wi’ many a tongue o’ wold an’ young. old

There, on the he'th's well-hetted ground, hearth's, heated

Hallow'd by times o’ zittèn round,

The brimvul mug o’ cider stood

An’ hiss'd avore the bleäzèn wood;

An’ zome, a-zittèn knee by knee,

Did tell their teäles wi’ hearty glee,

An’ others gamboll'd in a roar

O’ laughter on the stwonèn vloor; stone

An’ while the moss o’ winter-tide

Clung chilly roun’ the house's zide,

The hall, a-hung wi’ holly, rung

Wi’ many a tongue o’ wold an’ young.

There, on the pworches bench o’ stwone,

Hallow'd by times o’ youthvul fun,

We laugh'd an’ sigh'd to think o’ neämes

That rung there woonce, in evenèn geämes; once

An’ while the swaÿèn cypress bow'd,

In chilly wind, his darksome sh'oud canopy

An’ honeyzuckles, beäre o’ leaves, bare

Still reach'd the window-sheädèn eaves

Up where the clematis did trim

The stwonèn arches mossy rim,

The hall, a-hung wi’ holly, rung

Wi’ many a tongue o’ wold an’ young.

There, in the geärden's wall-bound square,

Hallow'd by times o’ strollèn there,

The winter wind, a-hufflèn loud, gusting

Did swaÿ the pear-tree's leafless sh'oud, canopy

An’ beät the bush that woonce did bear once

The damask rwose vor Jenny's heäir;

An’ there the walk o’ peävèn stwone

That burn'd below the zummer zun,

Struck icy-cwold drough shoes a-wore through

By maïdens vrom the hetted vloor heated

In hall, a-hung wi’ holm, where rung holly

Vull many a tongue o’ wold an’ young.