As evenen air, in green-treed Spring,
Do sheaeke the new-sprung pa'sley bed,
An' wither'd ash-tree keys do swing
An' vall a-flutt'ren roun' our head:
There, while the birds do zing their zong
In bushes down the ash-tree drong,
Come Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.
Below the budden ashes' height
We there can linger in the lew,
While boughs, a-gilded by the light,
Do sheen avore the sky o' blue:
But there by zetten zun, or moon
A-risen, time wull vlee too soon
Wi' Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Her vaice an' feaece can meaeke vor me.
Down where the darksome brook do flow,
Below the bridge's arched wall,
Wi' alders dark, a-leanen low,
Above the gloomy watervall;
There I've a-led ye hwome at night,
Wi' noo feaece else 'ithin my zight
But yours so feaeir, an' sweet's the pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece ha' meaede me there.
An' oh! when other years do come,
An' zetten zuns, wi' yollow gleaere,
Drough western window-peaenes, at hwome,
Do light upon my evenen chair:
While day do weaene, an' dew do vall,
Be wi' me then, or else in call,
As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece do meaeke vor me.
Ah! you do smile, a-thinken light
O' my true words, but never mind;
Smile on, smile on, but still your flight
Would leaeve me little jay behind:
But let me not be zoo a-tried
Wi' you a-lost where I do bide,
O Jessie Lee, in any pleaece
Your vaice an' feaece ha' blest vor me.
I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought
To this our life ov air an' land,
Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought,
To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand.
An' oh! if there should be in store
An angel here vor my poor door,
'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleaece
Her vaice an' feace can meaeke vor me.