There the ash-tree leaves do vall
In the wind a-blowen cwolder,
An' my childern, tall or small,
Since last Fall be woone year wolder.
Woone year wolder, woone year dearer,
Till when they do leave my he'th,
I shall be noo mwore a hearer
O' their vaices or their me'th.
There dead ash leaves be a-toss'd
In the wind, a-blowen stronger,
An' our life-time, since we lost
Souls we lov'd, is woone year longer.
Woone year longer, woone year wider,
Vrom the friends that death ha' took,
As the hours do teaeke the rider
Vrom the hand that last he shook.
No. If he do ride at night
Vrom the zide the zun went under,
Woone hour vrom his western light
Needen meaeke woone hour asunder;
Woone hour onward, woone hour nigher
To the hopeful eastern skies,
Where his mornen rim o' vier
Soon ageaen shall meet his eyes.
Leaves be now a-scatter'd round
In the wind, a-blowen bleaker,
An' if we do walk the ground
Wi' our life-strangth woone year weaker.
Woone year weaker, woone year nigher
To the pleaece where we shall vind
Woone that's deathless vor the dier,
Voremost they that dropp'd behind.