But should I vind a-heavèn now Her breast wi' aïr o' thik dear pleäce? Or zee dark locks by such a brow, Or het o' plaÿ on such a feäce? No! She's now staïd, An' where she plaÿ'd, There's noo such maïd that now ha' took The pleäce that she ha' long vorsook, Though clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour, Wi' whirlèn stwone an' streamèn flour, Do goo the mill by cloty Stour.
An' still the pulley rwope do heist The wheat vrom red-wheeled waggon beds. An' ho'ses there wi' lwoads of grist, Do stand an' toss their heavy heads; But on the vloor, Or at the door, Do show noo mwore the kindly feäce Her father show'd about the pleäce, As clack, clack, clack, vrom hour to hour, Wi' whirlèn stwone, an' streamèn flour, Did goo his mill by cloty Stour.
As I, below the mornèn sky, Wer out a workèn in the lew O' black-stemm'd thorns, a-springèn high, Avore the worold-boundèn blue, A-reäkèn, under woak tree boughs, The orts a-left behin' by cows.
Above the grey-grow'd thistle rings, An' deäisy-buds, the lark, in flight, Did zing a-loft, wi' flappèn wings, Tho' mwore in heärèn than in zight; The while my bwoys, in plaÿvul me'th, Did run till they wer out o' breath.
Then woone, wi' han'-besheäded eyes, A-stoppèn still, as he did run, Look'd up to zee the lark arise A-zingèn to the high-gone zun; The while his brother look'd below Vor what the groun' mid have to show
Zoo woone did watch above his head The bird his hands could never teäke; An' woone, below, where he did tread, Vound out the nest within the breäke; But, aggs be only woonce a-vound, An' uncaught larks ageän mid sound.
A happy day, a happy year. A zummer Zunday, dazzlèn clear, I went athirt vrom Lea to Noke. To goo to church wi' Fanny's vo'k: The sky o' blue did only show A cloud or two, so white as snow, An' aïr did swaÿ, wi' softest strokes, The eltrot roun' the dark-bough'd woaks. O day o' rest when bells do toll! O day a-blest to ev'ry soul! How sweet the zwells o' Zunday bells.
An' on the cowslip-knap at Creech, Below the grove o' steätely beech, I heärd two tow'rs a-cheemèn clear, Vrom woone I went, to woone drew near, As they did call, by flow'ry ground, The bright-shod veet vrom housen round, A-drownèn wi' their holy call, The goocoo an' the water-vall. Die off, O bells o' my dear pleäce, Ring out, O bells avore my feäce, Vull sweet your zwells, O ding-dong bells.