To zee a vew wold friends, about
Wold Meldon, where I still ha’ zome,
That bid me speed as I come out,
An’ now ha’ bid me welcome hwome,
As I did goo, while skies wer blue,
Vrom view to view, to Meldonley.
An’ there wer timber’d knaps, that show’d
Cool sheädes, vor rest, on grassy ground,
An’ thatch-brow’d windows, flower-bound,
Where I could wish wer my abode.
I pass’d the maïd avore the spring,
An’ shepherd by the thornèn tree;
An’ heard the merry dréver zing,
But met noo kith or kin to me,
Till I come down, vrom Meldon’s crown
To rufs o’ brown, at Meldonley.
THE HOLLOW WOAK.
The woaken tree, so hollow now,
To souls ov other times wer sound,
An’ reach’d on ev’ry zide a bough
Above their heads, a-gather’d round,
But zome light veet
That here did meet
In friendship sweet, vor rest or jaÿ,
Shall be a-miss’d another Maÿ.
My childern here, in plaÿvul pride
Did zit ’ithin his wooden walls,
A-mentèn steätely vo’k inside
O’ castle towers an’ lofty halls.
But now the vloor
