At eventide the wind wer loud
By trees an' tuns above woone's head,
An' all the sky wer woone dark cloud,
Vor all it had noo rain to shed;
An' as the darkness gather'd thick,
I zot me down below a rick,
Where straws upon the win' did ride
Wi' giddy flights, along my zide,
Though unmolesten me a-resten,
Where I lay 'ithin the lew.
My wife's bright vier indoors did cast
Its fleaeme upon the window peaenes
That screen'd her teaeble, while the blast
Vled on in music down the leaenes;
An' as I zot in vaiceless thought
Ov other zummer-tides, that brought
The sheenen grass below the lark,
Or left their ricks a-wearen dark,
My childern voun' me, an' come roun' me,
Where I lay 'ithin the lew.
The rick that then did keep me lew
Would be a-gone another Fall,
An' I, in zome years, in a vew,
Mid leaeve the childern, big or small;
But He that meaede the wind, an' meaede
The lewth, an' zent wi' het the sheaede,
Can keep my childern, all alwone
O' under me, an' though vull grown
Or little lispers, wi' their whispers,
There a-lyen in the lew.