An’ then she twold me to bewar
O’ what the letter M stood vor.
An’ as I walk’d, o’ Monday night,
Drough Meäd wi’ Dicky overright
The Mill, the Miller, at the stile,
Did stan’ an’ watch us teäke our stroll,
An’ then, a blabbèn dousty-poll!
Twold Mother o’t. Well wo’th his while!
An’ Poll too wer a-bid bewar
O’ what the letter F stood vor;
An’ then, because she took, at Feäir,
A bosom-pin o’ Jimmy Heäre,
Young Franky beät en black an’ blue.
’Tis F vor Feäir; an’ ’twer about
A Fearèn Frank an’ Jimmy foüght,
Zoo I do think she twold us true.
In short, she twold us all about
What had a-vell, or would vall out;
An’ whether we should spend our lives
As maïdens, or as wedded wives;
But when we went to bundle on,
The gipsies’ dog were at the raïls
A-lappèn milk vrom ouer païls,—
A pretty deäl o’ Poll’s wer gone.
JEANE’S WEDDEN DAY IN MORNEN.
At last Jeäne come down stairs, a-drest
Wi’ weddèn knots upon her breast,
A-blushèn, while a tear did lie
Upon her burnèn cheäk half dry;
An’ then her Robert, drawèn nigh
Wi’ tothers, took her han’ wi’ pride,
To meäke her at the church his bride,
Her weddèn day in mornèn.
