O! Meäry, when the zun went down,
Woone night in Spring, wi' vi'ry rim,
Behind thik nap wi' woody crown,
An' left your smilèn feäce so dim;
Your little sister there, inside,
Wi' bellows on her little knee,
Did blow the vier, a-glearèn wide
Drough window-peänes, that I could zee,--
As you did stan' wi' me, avore
The house, a-peärten,--woone smile mwore.
The chatt'rèn birds, a-risèn high,
An' zinkèn low, did swiftly vlee
Vrom shrinkèn moss, a-growèn dry,
Upon the leänèn apple tree.
An' there the dog, a-whippèn wide
His heäiry taïl, an' comèn near,
Did fondly lay ageän your zide
His coal-black nose an' russet ear:
To win what I'd a-won avore,
Vrom your gaÿ feäce, his woone smile mwore.
An' while your mother bustled sprack,
A-gettèn supper out in hall,
An' cast her sheäde, a-whiv'rèn black
Avore the vier, upon the wall;
Your brother come, wi' easy peäce,
In drough the slammèn geäte, along
The path, wi' healthy-bloomèn feäce,
A-whis'lèn shrill his last new zong;
An' when he come avore the door,
He met vrom you his woone smile mwore.
Now you that wer the daughter there,
Be mother on a husband's vloor,
An' mid ye meet wi' less o' ceäre
Than what your hearty mother bore;
An' if abroad I have to rue
The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed,
Mid I come hwome to sheäre wi' you
What's needvul free o' pinchèn need:
An' vind that you ha' still in store,
My evenèn meal, an' woone smile mwore.