O! Meaery, when the zun went down,
Woone night in Spring, wi' vi'ry rim,
Behind thik nap wi' woody crown,
An' left your smilen feaece so dim;
Your little sister there, inside,
Wi' bellows on her little knee,
Did blow the vier, a-glearen wide
Drough window-peaenes, that I could zee,—
As you did stan' wi' me, avore
The house, a-peaerten,—woone smile mwore.
The chatt'ren birds, a-risen high,
An' zinken low, did swiftly vlee
Vrom shrinken moss, a-growen dry,
Upon the leaenen apple tree.
An' there the dog, a-whippen wide
His heaeiry tail, an' comen near,
Did fondly lay ageaen your zide
His coal-black nose an' russet ear:
To win what I'd a-won avore,
Vrom your gay feaece, his woone smile mwore.
An' while your mother bustled sprack,
A-getten supper out in hall,
An' cast her sheaede, a-whiv'ren black
Avore the vier, upon the wall;
Your brother come, wi' easy peaece,
In drough the slammen geaete, along
The path, wi' healthy-bloomen feaece,
A-whis'len shrill his last new zong;
An' when he come avore the door,
He met vrom you his woone smile mwore.
Now you that wer the daughter there,
Be mother on a husband's vloor,
An' mid ye meet wi' less o' ceaere
Than what your hearty mother bore;
An' if abroad I have to rue
The bitter tongue, or wrongvul deed,
Mid I come hwome to sheaere wi' you
What's needvul free o' pinchen need:
An' vind that you ha' still in store,
My evenen meal, an' woone smile mwore.