Here, Jeaene, we vu'st did meet below
The leafy boughs, a-swingen slow,
Avore the zun, wi' evenen glow,
Above our road, a-beamen red;
The grass in zwath wer in the meaeds,
The water gleam'd among the reeds
In air a-steaelen roun' the hall,
Where ivy clung upon the wall.
Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!
The wall is wold, my grief is new.
An' there you walk'd wi' blushen pride,
Where softly-wheelen streams did glide,
Drough sheaedes o' poplars at my zide,
An' there wi' love that still do live,
Your feaece did wear the smile o' youth,
The while you spoke wi' age's truth,
An' wi' a rwosebud's mossy ball,
I deck'd your bosom vrom the wall.
Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!
The wall is wold, my grief is new.
But now when winter's rain do vall,
An' wind do beaet ageaen the hall,
The while upon the wat'ry wall
In spots o' grey the moss do grow;
The ruf noo mwore shall overspread
The pillor ov our weary head,
Nor shall the rwose's mossy ball
Behang vor you the house's wall.
Ah! well-a-day! O wall adieu!
The wall is wold, my grief is new.