An' under skies that glitter'd white, The while our smoke, arisèn blue, Did melt in aiër, out o' zight, Above the trees that kept us lew; Wer birds a-zingèn, Tongues a-ringèn, Childern springèn, vull o' jaÿ, A-finishèn the day in plaÿ.
An' back behind, a-stannèn tall, The cliff did sheen to western light; An' while avore the water-vall, A-rottlèn loud, an' foamèn white. The leaves did quiver, Gnots did whiver, By the river, where the pool, In evenèn aïr did glissen cool.
An' childern there, a-runnèn wide, Did plaÿ their geämes along the grove, Vor though to us 'twer jaÿ to bide At rest, to them 'twer jaÿ to move. The while my smilèn Jeäne, beguilèn, All my tweilèn, wi' her ceäre, Did call me to my evenèn feäre.
A Maÿtide's evenèn wer a-dyèn, Under moonsheen, into night, Wi' a streamèn wind a-sighèn By the thorns a-bloomèn white. Where in sheäde, a-zinkèn deeply, Wer a nook, all dark but lew, By a bank, arisèn steeply, Not to let the win' come drough.
Should my love goo out, a-showèn All her smiles, in open light; Or, in lewth, wi' wind a-blowèn, Staÿ in darkness, dim to zight? Staÿ in sheäde o' bank or wallèn, In the warmth, if not in light; Words alwone vrom her a-vallèn, Would be jaÿ vor all the night.
(1) Well, here we be, then, wi' the vu'st poor lwoad O' vuzz we brought, a-stoodèd in the road.
(2) The road, George, no. There's na'r a road. That's wrong. If we'd a road, we mid ha' got along.
(1) Noo road! Ees 'tis, the road that we do goo.
(2) Do goo, George, no. The pleäce we can't get drough.
(1) Well, there, the vu'st lwoad we've a-haul'd to day Is here a-stoodèd in theäse bed o' clay. Here's rotten groun'! an' how the wheels do cut! The little woone's a-zunk up to the nut.
(3) An' yeet this rotten groun' don't reach a lug.
(1) Well, come, then, gi'e the plow another tug.
(2) They meäres wull never pull the waggon out, A-lwoaded, an' a-stoodèd in thik rout.
(3) We'll try. Come, _Smiler_, come! C'up, _Whitevoot_, gee!
(2) White-voot wi' lags all over mud! Hee! Hee!
(3) 'Twoon't wag. We shall but snap our gear, An' overstraïn the meäres. 'Twoon't wag, 'tis clear.
(1) That's your work, William. No, in coo'se, 'twoon't wag. Why did ye dr[=e]ve en into theäse here quag? The vore-wheels be a-zunk above the nuts.