Ov all the meaeds wi' shoals an' pools,
Where streams did sheaeke the limber zedge,
An' milken vo'k did teaeke their stools,
In evenen zun-light under hedge:
Ov all the wears the brook did vill,
Or all the hatches where a sheet
O' foam did leaep below woone's veet,
The pleaece vor me wer Leeburn Mill.
An' while below the mossy wheel
All day the foamen stream did roar,
An' up in mill the floaten meal
Did pitch upon the sheaeken vloor.
We then could vind but vew han's still,
Or veet a-resten off the ground,
An' seldom hear the merry sound
O' geaemes a-play'd at Leeburn Mill.
But when they let the stream goo free,
Bezide the drippen wheel at rest,
An' leaves upon the poplar-tree
Wer dark avore the glowen west;
An' when the clock, a-ringen sh'ill,
Did slowly beaet zome evenen hour,
Oh! then 'ithin the leafy bow'r
Our tongues did run at Leeburn Mill.
An' when November's win' did blow,
Wi' hufflen storms along the plain,
An' blacken'd leaves did lie below
The neaeked tree, a-zoak'd wi' rain,
I werden at a loss to vill
The darkest hour o' rainy skies,
If I did vind avore my eyes
The feaeces down at Leeburn Mill.