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| NOW the shiades o’ the elems da stratch muore an muore, | |
| Vrom the low-zinkèn zun in the west o’ the sky; | |
| An’ the mâidens da stan out in clusters avore | |
| The doors, var to chatty an’ zee vo’ke goo by. | |
| |
| An’ ther cuombs be a-zet in ther bunches o’ hiair, | 5 |
| An’ ther curdles 1 da hang roun’ ther necks lily-white, | |
| An’ ther cheäks tha be ruosy, ther shoulders be biare, | |
| Ther looks tha be merry, ther lims tha be light. | |
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An’ the times have a-been—but tha c nt be noo muore— | |
| When I, too, had my jây under evemen’s dim sky, | 10 |
| When my Fanny did stan’ out wi’ others avore | |
| Her door, var to chatty an’ zee vo’ke goo by. | |
| |
| An’ up there, in the green, is her own honey-zuck, | |
| That her brother trâin’d up roun’ her winder; an’ there | |
| Is the ruose an’ the jessamy, where she did pluck | 15 |
| A flow’r var her buzom ar bud var her hiair. | |
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| An’ zoo smile, happy mâidens! var every fiace, | |
| As the zummers da come an’ the years da roll by, | |
| Wull soon sadden, ar goo vur awoy vrom the pliace, | |
| Ar else, lik’ my Fanny, wull wither an’ die. | 20 |
| |
| But when you be a-lost vrom the parish, some muore | |
| Wull come on in y’ur pliazen to bloom an’ to die; | |
| An’ zoo zummer wull always have mâidens avore | |
| Ther doors, var to chatty an’ zee vo’ke goo by. | |
| |
| Var d’ters ha’ marnen when mothers ha’ night, | 25 |
| An’ there ’s beauty alive when the fiairest is dead; | |
| As when oon sparklèn wiave da zink down vrom the light, | |
| Another da come up an’ catch it instead. | |
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| Zoo smile on, happy mâidens! but I shall noo muore | |
| Zee the mâid I da miss under evemen’s dim sky; | 30 |
| An’ my heart is a-touch’d to zee you out avore | |
| The doors, var to chatty and zee vo’ke goo by. | |
