As evenèn aïr, in green-treed Spring,

Do sheäke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,

An’ wither'd ash-tree keys do swing

An’ vall a-flutt'rèn roun’ our head:

There, while the birds do zing their zong

In bushes down the ash-tree drong, lane

Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce

Your vaïce an’ feäce can meäke vor me.

Below the buddèn ashes’ height

We there can linger in the lew, shelter

While boughs, a-gilded by the light,

Do sheen avore the sky o’ blue: shine

But there by zettèn zun, or moon

A-risèn, time wull vlee too soon fly

Wi’ Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce

Her vaïce an’ feäce can meäke vor me.

Down where the darksome brook do flow,

Below the bridge's archèd wall,

Wi’ alders dark, a-leanèn low,

Above the gloomy watervall;

There I've a-led ye hwome at night,

Wi’ noo feäce else 'ithin my zight

But yours so feäir, an’ sweet's the pleäce

Your vaïce an’ feäce ha’ meäde me there.

An’ oh! when other years do come,

An’ zettèn zuns, wi’ yollow gleäre,

Drough western window-peänes, at hwome, through

Do light upon my evenèn chair:

While day do weäne, an’ dew do vall, wane

Be wi’ me then, or else in call,

As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleäce fly

Your vaïce an’ feäce do meäke vor me.

Ah! you do smile, a-thinkèn light

O’ my true words, but never mind;

Smile on, smile on, but still your flight

Would leäve me little jaÿ behind: joy

But let me not be zoo a-tried so

Wi’ you a-lost where I do bide,

O Jessie Lee, in any pleäce

Your vaïce an’ feäce ha’ blest vor me.

I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought

To this our life ov aïr an’ land,

Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought, one

To help, wi’ love, his heart an’ hand.

An’ oh! if there should be in store

An angel here vor my poor door,

'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce

Her vaïce an’ feäce can meäke vor me.