O Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true;
Noo might under heaven shall peaert me vrom you.
My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight
The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklen light.
My kinsvo'k would fain zee me teaeke vor my meaete
A maid that ha' wealth, but a maid I should heaete;
But I'd sooner leaebour wi' thee vor my bride,
Than live lik' a squier wi' any bezide.
Vor all busy kinsvo'k, my love will be still
A-zet upon thee lik' the vir in the hill;
An' though they mid worry, an' dreaten, an' mock,
My head's in the storm, but my root's in the rock.
Zoo, Jenny, don't sobby! vor I shall be true;
Noo might under heaven shall peaert me vrom you.
My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I do slight
The zwell o' thy bosom, thy eyes' sparklen light.