No! I don't begrudge en his life, Nor his goold, nor his housen, nor lands; Teäke all o't, an' gi'e me my wife, A wife's be the cheapest ov hands. Lie alwone! sigh alwone! die alwone! Then be vorgot. No! I be content wi' my lot.
Ah! where be the vingers so feäir, Vor to pat en so soft on the feäce, To mend ev'ry stitch that do tear, An' keep ev'ry button in pleäce? Crack a-tore! brack a-tore! back a-tore! Buttons a-vled! Vor want ov a wife wi' her thread.
Ah! where is the sweet-perty head That do nod till he's gone out o' zight? An' where be the two eärms a-spread, To show en he's welcome at night? Dine alwone! pine alwone! whine alwone! Oh! what a life! I'll have a friend in a wife.
An' when vrom a meetèn o' me'th Each husban' do leäd hwome his bride, Then he do slink hwome to his he'th, Wi' his eärm a-hung down his cwold zide. Slinkèn on! blinkèn on! thinkèn on! Gloomy an' glum; Nothèn but dullness to come.
An' when he do onlock his door, Do rumble as hollow's a drum, An' the veäries a-hid roun' the vloor, Do grin vor to see en so glum. Keep alwone! sleep alwone! weep alwone! There let en bide, I'll have a wife at my zide.
But when he's a-laid on his bed In a zickness, O, what wull he do! Vor the hands that would lift up his head, An' sheäke up his pillor anew. Ills to come! pills to come! bills to come! Noo soul to sheäre The trials the poor wratch must bear.
Come let's goo down the grove to-night; The moon is up, 'tis all so light As day, an' win' do blow enough To sheäke the leaves, but tiddèn rough. Come, Esther, teäke, vor wold time's seäke, Your hooded cloke, that's on the pin, An' wrap up warm, an' teäke my eärm, You'll vind it better out than in. Come, Etty dear; come out o' door, An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
How charmèn to our very souls, Wer woonce your evenèn maïden strolls, The while the zettèn zunlight dyed Wi' red the beeches' western zide, But back avore your vinger wore The weddèn ring that's now so thin; An' you did sheäre a mother's ceäre, To watch an' call ye eärly in. Come, Etty dear; come out o' door, An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
An' then ageän, when you could slight The clock a-strikèn leäte at night, The while the moon, wi' risèn rim, Did light the beeches' eastern lim'. When I'd a-bound your vinger round Wi' thik goold ring that's now so thin, An' you had nwone but me alwone To teäke ye leäte or eärly in. Come, Etty dear; come out o' door, An' teäke a sweetheart's walk woonce mwore.
