“THE zunny copse ha’ birds to zing,

The leäze ha’ cows to low, meadow

The elem trees ha’ rooks on wing,

The meäds a brook to flow,

But I can walk noo mwore, to pass

The drashel out abrode, threshold, (to go) outside

To wear a path in theäse year's grass this

Or tread the wheelworn road,”

Cried Grammer, “then adieu,

O runnèn brooks,

An’ vleèn rooks, flying

I can't come out to you.

If ‘tis God's will, why then ‘tis well,

That I should bide ‘ithin a wall.”

An’ then the childern, wild wi’ fun,

An’ loud wi’ jaÿvul sounds, joyful

Sprung in an’ cried, “We had a run,

A-plaÿèn heäre an’ hounds;

But oh! the cowslips where we stopt

In Maÿcreech, on the knap!” hillock

An’ vrom their little han's each dropt

Some cowslips in her lap.

Cried Grammer, “Only zee!

I can't teäke strolls,

An’ little souls

Would bring the vields to me.

Since ‘tis God's will, an’ mus’ be well

That I should bide ‘ithin a wall. ”

“Oh! there be prison walls to hold

The han's o’ lawless crimes,

An’ there be walls arear'd vor wold raised, old

An’ zick in tryèn times;

But oh! though low mid slant my ruf, may, roof

Though hard my lot mid be,

Though dry mid come my daily lwoaf,

Mid mercy leäve me free!”

Cried Grammer, “Or adieu

To jaÿ; O grounds, joy, fields

An’ birds’ gaÿ sounds

If I mus’ gi'e up you, give

Although ‘tis well, in God's good will,

That I should bide ‘ithin a wall.”

“Oh! then,” we answer'd, “never fret,

If we shall be a-blest,

We'll work vull hard drough het an’ wet through heat

To keep your heart at rest:

The woaken chair's vor you to vill, oak

For you shall glow the coal,

An’ when the win’ do whissle sh'ill shrilly

We'll screen it vrom your poll.” head

Cried Grammer, “God is true.

I can't but feel

He smote to heal

My wounded heart in you;

An’ zoo ‘tis well, if ‘tis His will, so

That I be here ‘ithin a wall.