Ah! then vor things that time did bring My kinsvo'k, _Lea_ had bells to ring; An' then, ageän, vor what bevell My wife's, why _Noke_ church had a bell; But soon wi' hopevul lives a-bound In woone, we had woone tower's sound, Vor our high jaÿs all vive bells rung Our losses had woone iron tongue. Oh! ring all round, an' never mwoän So deep an' slow woone bell alwone, Vor sweet your swells o' vive clear bells.
When sycamore leaves wer a-spreadèn, Green-ruddy, in hedges, Bezide the red doust o' the ridges, A-dried at Woak Hill;
I packed up my goods all a-sheenèn Wi' long years o' handlèn, On dousty red wheels ov a waggon, To ride at Woak Hill.
The brown thatchen ruf o' the dwellèn, I then wer a-leävèn, Had shelter'd the sleek head o' Meäry, My bride at Woak Hill.
But now vor zome years, her light voot-vall 'S a-lost vrom the vloorèn. Too soon vor my jaÿ an' my childern, She died at Woak Hill.
But still I do think that, in soul, She do hover about us; To ho vor her motherless childern, Her pride at Woak Hill.
Zoo--lest she should tell me hereafter I stole off 'ithout her, An' left her, uncall'd at house-riddèn, To bide at Woak Hill--
I call'd her so fondly, wi' lippèns All soundless to others, An' took her wi' aïr-reachèn hand, To my zide at Woak Hill.
On the road I did look round, a-talkèn To light at my shoulder, An' then led her in at the door-way, Miles wide vrom Woak Hill.
An' that's why vo'k thought, vor a season, My mind wer a-wandrèn Wi' sorrow, when I wer so sorely A-tried at Woak Hill.
But no; that my Meäry mid never Behold herzelf slighted, I wanted to think that I guided My guide vrom Woak Hill.
Upon the hedge theäse bank did bear, Wi' lwonesome thought untwold in words, I woonce did work, wi' noo sound there But my own strokes, an' chirpèn birds; As down the west the zun went wan, An' days brought on our Zunday's rest, When sounds o' cheemèn bells did vill The aïr, an' hook an' axe wer stïll.
Along the wold town-path vo'k went, An' met unknown, or friend wi' friend, The maïd her busy mother zent, The mother wi' noo maïd to zend; An' in the light the gleäzier's glass, As he did pass, wer dazzlèn bright, Or woone went by wï' down-cast head, A wrapp'd in blackness vor the dead.