Ah! an’ how she did like vor to deck wi’ red
Holly-berries the window an’ wold clock’s head,
An’ the clavy wi’ boughs o’ some bright green leaves,
An’ to meäke twoast an’ eäle upon Chris’mas eves;
But she’s now, drough greäce,
In a better pleäce,
Though we’ll never vorget her, poor soul, nor lose
Gramfer’s token ov heäir, nor her weddèn shoes.
ZUNSHEEN IN THE WINTER.
The winter clouds, that long did hide
The zun, be all a-blown azide,
An’ in the light, noo longer dim,
Do sheen the ivy that do clim’
The tower’s zide an’ elem’s stim;
An’ holmen bushes, in between
The leafless thorns, be bright an’ green
To zunsheen o’ the winter.
The trees, that yesterday did twist
In wind’s a-drevèn rain an’ mist,
Do now drow sheädes out, long an’ still;
But roarèn watervals do vill
Their whirlèn pools below the hill,
Where, wi’ her païl upon the stile,
A-gwaïn a-milkèn Jeäne do smile
To zunsheen o’ the winter.
The birds do sheäke, wi’ plaÿsome skips,
The raïn-drops off the bushes’ tips,
A-chirripèn wi’ merry sound;
While over all the grassy ground
The wind’s a-whirlèn round an’ round
So softly, that the day do seem
Mwore lik’ a zummer in a dream,
Than zunsheen in the winter.
