WHY, his heart's lik’ a popple, so hard as a stwone, pebble

Vor 'tis money, an’ money's his ho, concern

An’ to handle an’ reckon it up vor his own,

Is the best o’ the jaÿs he do know. joys

Why, vor money he'd gi'e up his lags an’ be leäme, give, lame

Or would peärt wi’ his zight an’ be blind,

Or would lose vo'k's good will, vor to have a bad neäme, folk's

Or his peace, an’ have trouble o’ mind.

But wi’ ev'ry good thing that his meänness mid bring, might

He'd paÿ vor his money,

An’ only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet.

He did whisper to me, ―You do know that you stood

By the Squier, wi’ the vote that you had,

You could ax en to help ye to zome'hat as good, ask him

Or to vind a good pleäce vor your lad.”

―Aye, aye, but if I wer beholdèn vor bread

To another,” I zaid, ―I should bind

All my body an’ soul to the nod of his head,

An’ gi'e up all my freedom o’ mind.” give

An’ then, if my païn wer a-zet wi’ my gaïn,

I should paÿ vor my money,

An’ only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet.

Then, if my bit o’ brook that do wind so vur round, far

Wer but his, why, he'd straïghten his bed, its

An’ the wold stunpole woak that do stan’ in my ground, half-dead

Shoudden long sheäde the grass wi’ his head. [oak

But if I do vind jaÿ where the leaves be a-shook

On the limbs, wi’ their sheädes on the grass, shadows

Or below, in the bow o’ the withy-bound nook, bend, willow-

That the rock-washèn water do pass,

Then wi’ they jaÿs a-vled an’ zome goold in their stead, flown

I should paÿ vor my money,

An’ only zell honey to buy zome'hat sweet.

No, be my lot good work, wi’ the lungs well in plaÿ,

An’ good rest when the body do tire,

Vor the mind a good conscience, wi’ hope or wi’ jaÿ,

Vor the body, good lewth, an’ good vire, shelter

There's noo good o’ goold, but to buy what 'ull meäke

Vor our happiness here among men;

An’ who would gi'e happiness up vor the seäke give

O’ zome money to buy it ageän?