Noo soul did hear her lips complain,
An' she's a-gone vrom all her pain,
An' others' loss to her is gain
For she do live in heaven's love;
Vull many a longsome day an' week
She bore her ailen, still, an' meek;
A-worken while her strangth held on,
An' guiden housework, when 'twer gone.
Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn,
Oh! there be souls to murn.
The last time I'd a-cast my zight
Upon her feaece, a-feaeded white,
Wer in a zummer's mornen light
In hall avore the smwold'ren vier,
The while the childern beaet the vloor,
In play, wi' tiny shoes they wore,
An' call'd their mother's eyes to view
The feaet's their little limbs could do.
Oh! Ellen Brine ov Allenburn,
They childern now mus' murn.
Then woone, a-stoppen vrom his reaece,
Went up, an' on her knee did pleaece
His hand, a-looken in her feaece,
An' wi' a smilen mouth so small,
He zaid, "You promised us to goo
To Shroton feaeir, an' teaeke us two!"
She heaerd it wi' her two white ears,
An' in her eyes there sprung two tears,
Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn
Did veel that they mus' murn.
September come, wi' Shroton feaeir,
But Ellen Brine wer never there!
A heavy heart wer on the meaere
Their father rod his hwomeward road.
'Tis true he brought zome feaerens back,
Vor them two childern all in black;
But they had now, wi' playthings new,
Noo mother vor to shew em to,
Vor Ellen Brine ov Allenburn
Would never mwore return.