By time's a-brought the mornen light,
By time the light do weaene;
By time's a-brought the young man's might,
By time his might do weaene;
The Winter snow do whiten grass,
The zummer flow'rs do brighten grass,
Vor zome things we do lose wi' pain,
We've mwore that mid be jay to gain,
An' my dear life do seem the seaeme
While at my zide
There still do bide
Your welcome feaece an' hwomely neaeme.
Wi' ev'ry day that woonce come on
I had to choose a jay,
Wi' many that be since a-gone
I had to lose a jay.
Drough longsome years a-wanderen,
Drough lwonesome rest a-ponderen,
Woone peaceful daytime wer a-bro't
To heal the heart another smote;
But my dear life do seem the seaeme
While I can hear,
A-sounden near,
Your answ'ren vaice an' long-call'd neaeme.
An' oh! that hope, when life do dawn,
Should rise to light our way,
An' then, wi' weaenen het withdrawn,
Should soon benight our way.
Whatever mid beval me still,
Wherever chance mid call me still,
Though leaete my evenen tweil mid cease,
An' though my night mid lose its peace,
My life will seem to me the seaeme
While you do sheaere
My daily ceaere,
An' answer to your long-call'd neaeme.