Oh! there be angels evermwore,
A-passen onward by the door,
A-zent to teaeke our jays, or come
To bring us zome—O Meaerianne.
Though doors be shut, an' bars be stout,
Noo bolted door can keep em out;
But they wull leaeve us ev'ry thing
They have to bring—My Meaerianne.
An' zoo the days a-stealen by,
Wi' zuns a-riden drough the sky,
Do bring us things to leaeve us sad,
Or meaeke us glad—O Meaerianne.
The day that's mild, the day that's stern,
Do teaeke, in stillness, each his turn;
An' evils at their worst mid mend,
Or even end—My Meaerianne.
But still, if we can only bear
Wi' faith an' love, our pain an' ceaere,
We shan't vind missen jays a-lost,
Though we be crost—O Meaerianne.
But all a-took to heav'n, an' stow'd
Where we can't weaeste em on the road,
As we do wander to an' fro,
Down here below—My Meaerianne.
But there be jays I'd soonest choose
To keep, vrom them that I must lose;
Your workzome hands to help my tweil,
Your cheerful smile—O Meaerianne.
The Zunday bells o' yonder tow'r,
The moonlight sheaedes o' my own bow'r,
An' rest avore our vier-zide,
At evenen-tide—My Meaerianne.