COME let's goo down the grove to-night;

The moon is up, 'tis all so light

As day, an’ win’ do blow enough

To sheäke the leaves, but tiddèn rough. ’tisn't

Come, Esther, teäke, vor wold time's seäke, old

Your hooded cloke, that's on the pin, peg

An’ wrap up warm, an’ teäke my eärm, arm

You'll vind it better out than in.

Come, Etty dear; come out o’ door,

An’ teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore. once

How charmèn to our very souls,

Wer woonce your evenèn maïden strolls,

The while the zettèn zunlight dyed

Wi’ red the beeches’ western zide,

But back avore your vinger wore

The weddèn ring that's now so thin;

An’ you did sheäre a mother's ceäre,

To watch an’ call ye eärly in.

Come, Etty dear; come out o’ door,

An’ teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.

An’ then ageän, when you could slight

The clock a-strikèn leäte at night,

The while the moon, wi’ risèn rim,

Did light the beeches’ eastern lim’.

When I'd a-bound your vinger round

Wi’ thik goold ring that's now so thin, that

An’ you had nwone but me alwone

To teäke ye leäte or eärly in.

Come, Etty dear; come out o’ door,

An’ teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.

But often when the western zide

O’ trees did glow at evenèn-tide,

Or when the leäter moon did light

The beeches’ eastern boughs at night,

An’ in the grove, where vo'k did rove folk

The crumpled leaves did vlee an’ spin, fly

You couldèn sheäre the pleasure there:

Your work or childern kept ye in.

Come, Etty dear, come out o’ door,

An’ teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.

But ceäres that zunk your oval chin

Ageän your bosom's lily skin,

Vor all they meäde our life so black,

Be now a-lost behind our back.

Zoo never mwope, in midst of hope, so

To slight our blessèns would be sin.

Ha! ha! well done, now this is fun;

When you do like I'll bring ye in.

Here, Etty dear; here, out o’ door,

We'll teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.