O wild-reaeven west winds; as you do roar on,
The elems do rock an' the poplars do ply,
An' weaeve do dreve weaeve in the dark-water'd pon',—
Oh! where do ye rise vrom, an' where do ye die?
O wild-reaeven winds I do wish I could vlee
Wi' you, lik' a bird o' the clouds, up above
The ridge o' the hill an' the top o' the tree,
To where I do long vor, an' vo'k I do love.
Or else that in under theaese rock I could hear,
In the soft-zwellen sounds you do leaeve in your road,
Zome words you mid bring me, vrom tongues that be dear,
Vrom friends that do love me, all scatter'd abrode.
O wild-reaeven winds! if you ever do roar
By the house an' the elems vrom where I'm a-come,
Breathe up at the window, or call at the door,
An' tell you've a-voun' me a-thinken o' hwome.