PENTRIDGE!—oh! my heart's a-zwellèn

Vull o’ jaÿ wi’ vo'k a-tellèn joy, folk

Any news o’ thik wold pleäce, that old

An’ the boughy hedges round it,

An’ the river that do bound it

Wi’ his dark but glis'nèn feäce.

Vor there's noo land, on either hand,

To me lik’ Pentridge by the river.

Be there any leaves to quiver

On the aspen by the river?

Doo he sheäde the water still,

Where the rushes be a-growèn,

Where the sullen Stour's a-flowèn

Drough the meäds vrom mill to mill? through

Vor if a tree wer dear to me,

Oh! 'twer thik aspen by the river.

There, in eegrass new a-shootèn, grass regrowing after mowing

I did run on even vootèn, footing

Happy, over new-mow'd land;

Or did zing wi’ zingèn drushes thrushes

While I plaïted, out o’ rushes,

Little baskets vor my hand;

Bezide the clote that there did float, yellow water-lily

Wi’ yollow blossoms, on the river.

When the western zun's a vallèn, falling

What sh'ill vaïce is now a-callèn clear

Hwome the deäiry to the païls; dairy-cows

Who do dreve em on, a-flingèn drive

Wide-bow'd horns, or slowly zwingèn curved

Right an’ left their tufty taïls?

As they do goo a-huddled drough through

The geäte a-leäden up vrom river.

Bleäded grass is now a-shootèn

Where the vloor wer woonce our vootèn, once, footing

While the hall wer still in pleäce.

Stwones be looser in the wallèn; walls

Hollow trees be nearer vallèn; falling

Ev'ry thing ha’ chang'd its feäce.

But still the neäme do bide the seäme—

'Tis Pentridge—Pentridge by the river.