Ah! they wer times, when Nanny Gill Went so'jerèn ageänst her will, Back when the King come down to view His ho'se an' voot, in red an' blue, An' they did march in rows, An' wheel in lines an' bows, Below the King's own nose; An' guns did pwoint, an' swords did gleäre, A-fightèn foes that werden there.
Poor Nanny Gill did goo to zell In town her glitt'rèn macarel, A-pack'd wi' ceäre, in even lots, A-ho'seback in a peäir o' pots. An' zoo when she did ride Between her panniers wide, Red-cloked in all her pride, Why, who but she, an' who but broke The road avore her scarlet cloke!
But Nanny's ho'se that she did ride, Woonce carr'd a sword ageän his zide, An' had, to prick en into rank, A so'jer's spurs ageän his flank; An' zoo, when he got zight O' swords a-gleamèn bright, An' men agwaïn to fight, He set his eyes athirt the ground, An' prick'd his ears to catch the sound.
Then Nanny gi'ed his zide a kick, An' het en wi' her limber stick; But suddenly a horn did sound, An' zend the ho'semen on vull bound; An' her ho'se at the zight Went after em, vull flight, Wi' Nanny in a fright, A-pullèn, wi' a scream an' grin, Her wold brown raïns to hold en in.
But no! he went away vull bound, As vast as he could tear the ground, An' took, in line, a so'jer's pleäce, Vor Nanny's cloke an' frighten'd feäce; While vo'k did laugh an' shout To zee her cloke stream out, As she did wheel about, A-cryèn, "Oh! la! dear!" in fright, The while her ho'se did plaÿ sham fight.
A-swaÿèn slow, the poplar's head, Above the slopèn thatch did ply, The while the midnight moon did shed His light below the spangled sky. An' there the road did reach avore The hatch, all vootless down the hill; An' hands, a-tired by day, wer still, Wi' moonlight on the door.
A-boomèn deep, did slowly sound The bell, a-tellèn middle night; The while the quiv'rèn ivy, round The tree, did sheäke in softest light. But vootless wer the stwone avore The house where I, the maïdens guest, At evenèn, woonce did zit at rest By moonlight on the door.
Though till the dawn, where night's a-meäde The day, the laughèn crowds be gaÿ, Let evenèn zink wi' quiet sheäde, Where I do hold my little swaÿ. An' childern dear to my heart's core, A-sleep wi' little heavèn breast, That pank'd by day in plaÿ, do rest Wi' moonlight on the door.