WELL, you mid keep the town an’ street, may

Wi’ grassless stwones to beät your veet,

An’ zunless windows where your brows

Be never cooled by swaÿèn boughs;

An’ let me end, as I begun,

My days in oben aïr an’ zun,

Where zummer win's a-blowèn sweet,

Wi’ blooth o’ trees as white's a sheet; blossom

Or swaÿèn boughs, a-bendèn low

Wi’ rip'nèn apples in a row,

An’ we a-risèn rathe do meet early

The bright'nèn dawn wi’ dewy veet,

An’ leäve, at night, the vootless groves,

To rest 'ithin our thatchen oves. eaves

An’ here our childern still do bruise

The deäisy buds wi’ tiny shoes,

As we did meet avore em, free

Vrom ceäre, in plaÿ below the tree.

An’ there in me'th their lively eyes mirth

Do glissen to the zunny skies,

As aïr do blow, wi’ leäzy peäce

To cool, in sheäde, their burnèn feäce.

Where leaves o’ spreadèn docks do hide

The zawpit's timber-lwoaded zide,

An’ trees do lie, wi’ scraggy limbs,

Among the deäisy's crimson rims.

An’ they, so proud, wi’ eärms a-spread arms

To keep their balance good, do tread

Wi’ ceäreful steps o’ tiny zoles

The narrow zides o’ trees an’ poles.

An’ zoo I'll leäve vor your light veet so

The peävement o’ the zunless street,

While I do end, as I begun,

My days in oben aïr an’ zun.