Her father’s welcome bit o’ food,
Vhere he wer out at work in wood;
An’ she wer bless’d wi’ mwore than zwome—
A father out, an’ mother hwome.
An’ there, a-vell’d ’ithin the copse,
Below the timber’s new-leav’d tops,
Wer ashèn poles, a-castèn straïght,
On primrwose beds, their langthy waïght;
Below the yollow light, a-shed
Drough boughs upon the vi’let’s head,
By climèn ivy, that did reach,
A sheenèn roun’ the dead-leav’d beech.
An’ there her father zot, an’ meäde
His hwomely meal bezide a gleäde;
While she, a-croopèn down to ground,
Did pull the flowers, where she vound
The droopèn vi’let out in blooth,
Or yollow primrwose in the lewth,
That she mid car em proudly back,
An’ zet em on her mother’s tack;
Vor she wer bless’d wi’ mwore than zwome—
A father out, an’ mother hwome.
A father out, an’ mother hwome,
Be blessèns soon a-lost by zome;
A-lost by me, an’ zoo I pray’d
They mid be speär’d the little maïd.
RIDDLES.
Anne an’ Joey a-ta’ken.
A. A plague! theäse cow wont stand a bit,
Noo sooner do she zee me zit
Ageän her, than she’s in a trot,
A-runnèn to zome other spot.
