An’ woone day when he met her, his knees nearly smote
Woone another, an’ then wi’ a struggle he bro’t
A vew vords to his tongue, wi’ some mwore in his droat.
But she, ’ithout doubt, could soon vind
Vrom two words that come out, zix behind.
Zoo at langth, when he vound her so smilèn an’ kind,
Why he wrote her zome laïns, vor to tell her his mind,
Though ’twer then a hard task vor a man that wer shy,
To be married in church, wi’ a crowd stannèn by.
But he twold her woone day, “I have housen an’ lands.
We could marry by licence, if you don’t like banns,”
An’ he cover’d his eyes up wi’ woone ov his han’s,
Vor his head seem’d to zwim as he spoke,
An’ the aïr look’d so dim as a smoke.
Well! he vound a good naïghbour to goo in his pleäce
Vor to buy the goold ring, vor he hadden the feäce.
An’ when he went up vor to put in the banns,
He did sheäke in his lags, an’ did sheäke in his han’s.
Then they ax’d vor her neäme, an’ her parish or town,
An’ he gi’ed em a leaf, wi’ her neäme a-wrote down;
Vor he coulden ha’ twold em outright, vor a poun’,
Vor his tongue wer so weak an’ so loose,
When he wanted to speak ’twer hoo use.
Zoo they went to be married, an’ when they got there
All the vo’k wer a-gather’d as if ’twer a feäir,
An’ he thought, though his pleäce mid be pleazèn to zome,
He could all but ha’ wish’d that he hadden a-come.
The bride wer a-smilèn as fresh as a rwose,
An’ when he come wi’ her, an’ show’d his poor nose,
All the little bwoys shouted, an’ cried “There he goes,”
“There he goes.” Oh! vor his peärt he velt
As if the poor heart o’n would melt.
