An' as the mornèn zun rose high Above my mossy roof clwose by, The blue smoke curreled up between The lofty trees o' feädèn green: A zight that's touchèn when do show A busy wife is down below, A-workèn hard to cheer woone's tweil Wi' her best feäre, an' better smile. Mid women still in wedlock's yoke Zend up, wi' love, their own blue smoke, An' husbands vind their bwoards a-spread By faïthvul hands when I be dead, An' noo good men in ouer land Think lightly o' the weddèn band. True happiness do bide alwone Wi' them that ha' their own he'th-stwone To gather wi' their childern roun', A-smilèn at the worold's frown.
My bwoys, that brought me thatch an' spars, Wer down a-taïtèn on the bars, Or zot a-cuttèn wi' a knife, Dry eltrot-roots to meäke a fife; Or drevèn woone another round The rick upon the grassy ground. An', as the aïer vrom the west Did fan my burnèn feäce an' breast, An' hoppèn birds, wi' twitt'rèn beaks, Did show their sheenèn spots an' streaks, Then, wi' my heart a-vill'd wi' love An' thankvulness to God above, I didden think ov anything That I begrudg'd o' lord or king; Vor I ha' round me, vur or near, The mwost to love an' nwone to fear, An' zoo can walk in any pleäce, An' look the best man in the feäce. What good do come to eächèn heads, O' lièn down in silken beds? Or what's a coach, if woone do pine To zee woone's naïghbour's twice so fine? Contentment is a constant feäst, He's richest that do want the leäst.
Avore we went a-milkèn, vive Or six o's here wer all alive A-teäkèn bees that zwarm'd vrom hive; An' we'd sich work to catch The hummèn rogues, they led us sich A dance all over hedge an' ditch; An' then at last where should they pitch, But up in uncle's thatch?
Dick rung a sheep-bell in his han'; Liz beät a cannister, an' Nan Did bang the little fryèn-pan Wi' thick an' thumpèn blows; An' Tom went on, a-carrèn roun' A bee-pot up upon his crown, Wi' all his edge a-reachèn down Avore his eyes an' nose.
An' woone girt bee, wi' spitevul hum, Stung Dicky's lip, an' meäde it come All up amost so big's a plum; An' zome, a-vleèn on, Got all roun' Liz, an' meäde her hop An' scream, a-twirlèn lik' a top, An' spring away right backward, flop Down into barken pon':