"O fain wad I be in the North Countrie Where the lads and the lasses are all making hay; O there wad I see what is pleasant to me,-- A mischief 'light on them enticed me away! O the Oak and the Ash and the bonny Ivy tree, They are all growing green in my North Countrie!"
"Then farewell my father, and farewell my mother, Until I do see you I nothing but mourn; Remembering my brothers, my sisters, and others-- In less than a year I hope to return. O the Oak and the Ash and the bonny Ivy tree. They are all growing green in my North Countrie!"
"Sair feyl'd, hinny! Sair feyl'd now, Sair feyl'd, hinny, Sin' aw ken'd thou. Aw was young and lusty, Aw was fair and clear; Aw was young and lusty Mony a lang year. Sair feyl'd, hinny! Sair feyl'd now; Sair feyl'd, hinny, Sin' aw ken'd thou.
"When aw was young and lusty Aw cud lowp u dyke; But now aw'm aud and still. Aw can hardly stop a syke. Sair feyl'd, hinny! Sair feyl'd now, Sair feyl'd hinny, Sin' aw ken'd thou.
"When aw was five and twenty Aw was brave an bauld. Now at five an' sixty Aw'm byeth stiff an' cauld. Sair feyl'd, hinny! Sair feyl'd now. Sair feyl'd, hinny, Sin' aw ken'd thou"
Thus said the aud man To the oak tree; "Sair feyl'd is aw Sin' aw kenn'd thee! Sair feyl'd, hinny! Sair feyl'd now; Sair feyl'd, hinny, Sin' aw ken'd thou."
"Cum, Geordy, haud the bairn, Aw's sure aw'll not stop lang, Aw'd tyek the jewl me-sel, But really aw's not strang. Thor's flooer and coals te get, The hoose-torns thor not deun, So haud the bairn for fairs, Ye're often deun'd for fun!"
Then Geordy held the bairn, But sair agyen his will, The poor bit thing wes gud, But Geordy had ne skill, He haddint its muther's ways, He sat both stiff an' num,-- Before five minutes wes past He wished its muther wad cum!
His wife had scarcely gyen, The bairn begun te squall, Wi' hikin't up an' doon He'd let the poor thing fall, It waddent haud its tung, Tho' sum aud teun he'd hum,-- 'Jack an' Gill went up a hill'-- "Aw wish yor muther wad cum!"
"What weary toil," says he, "This nursin bairns mun be, A bit on't's weel eneuf, Ay, quite eneuf for me; Te keep a crying bairn, It may be grand te sum, A day's wark's not as bad-- Aw wish yor muther wad cum.
"Men seldom give a thowt Te what thor wives indure, Aw thowt she'd nowt te de But clean the hoose, aw's sure. Or myek me dinner an' tea-- It's startin' te chow its thumb, The poor thing wants its tit, Aw wish yor muther wad cum."