Ah! I do think, as I do tread
Theaese path, wi' elems overhead,
A-climen slowly up vrom Bridge,
By easy steps, to Broadwoak Ridge,
That all theaese roads that we do bruise
Wi' hosses' shoes, or heavy lwoads;
An' hedges' bands, where trees in row
Do rise an' grow aroun' the lands,
Be works that we've a-vound a-wrought
By our vorefathers' ceaere an' thought.
They clear'd the groun' vor grass to teaeke
The pleaece that bore the bremble breaeke,
An' drain'd the fen, where water spread,
A-lyen dead, a beaene to men;
An' built the mill, where still the wheel
Do grind our meal, below the hill;
An' turn'd the bridge, wi' arch a-spread,
Below a road, vor us to tread.
They vound a pleaece, where we mid seek
The gifts o' greaece vrom week to week;
An' built wi' stwone, upon the hill,
A tow'r we still do call our own;
With bells to use, an' meaeke rejaice,
Wi' giant vaice, at our good news:
An' lifted stwones an' beams to keep
The rain an' cwold vrom us asleep.
Zoo now mid nwone ov us vorget
The pattern our vorefathers zet;
But each be faein to underteaeke
Some work to meaeke vor others' gain,
That we mid leaeve mwore good to sheaere,
Less ills to bear, less souls to grieve,
An' when our hands do vall to rest,
It mid be vrom a work a-blest.