Noo birds o' day wer out to spread Their wings above the gully's bed, An' darkness roun' the elem-tree 'D a-still'd the charmy childern's glee. All he'ths wer cwold but woone, where we Wer gaÿ, 'tis true, but gaÿ an' wise, An' laugh'd in light o' maïden's eyes, That glissen'd wide awake, John.
An' when we all, lik' loosen'd hounds, Broke out o' doors, wi' merry sounds, Our friends among the plaÿsome team, All brought us gwäin so vur's the stream. But Jeäne, that there, below a gleam O' light, watch'd woone o's out o' zight; Vor willènly, vor his "Good night," She'd longer bide awake, John.
An' while up _Leighs_ we stepp'd along Our grassy path, wi' joke an' zong, There _Plumber_, wi' its woody ground, O' slopèn knaps a-screen'd around, Rose dim 'ithout a breath o' sound, The wold abode o' squiers a-gone, Though while they lay a-sleepèn on, Their stars wer still awake, John.
If I've a-stream'd below a storm, An' not a-velt the raïn, An' if I ever velt me warm, In snow upon the plaïn, 'Twer when, as evenèn skies wer dim, An' vields below my eyes wer dim, I went alwone at evenèn-fall, Athirt the vields to Ivy Hall.
I voun' the wind upon the hill, Last night, a-roarèn loud, An' rubbèn boughs a-creakèn sh'ill Upon the ashes' sh'oud; But oh! the reelèn copse mid groan; An' timber's lofty tops mid groan; The hufflèn winds be music all, Bezide my road to Ivy Hall.
A sheädy grove o' ribbèd woaks, Is Wootton's shelter'd nest, An' woaks do keep the winter's strokes Vrom Knapton's evenèn rest. An' woaks ageän wi' bossy stems, An' elems wi' their mossy stems, Do rise to screen the leafy wall An' stwonèn ruf ov Ivy Hall.
The darksome clouds mid fling their sleet. An' vrost mid pinch me blue, Or snow mid cling below my veet, An' hide my road vrom view. The winter's only jaÿ ov heart, An' storms do meäke me gaÿ ov heart, When I do rest, at evenèn-fall, Bezide the he'th ov Ivy Hall.
There leafy stems do clim' around The mossy stwonèn eaves; An' there be window-zides a-bound Wi' quiv'rèn ivy-leaves. But though the sky is dim 'ithout, An' feäces mid be grim 'ithout, Still I ha' smiles when I do call, At evenèn-tide, at Ivy Hall.
When I wer still a bwoy, an' mother's pride, A bigger bwoy spoke up to me so kind-like, "If you do like, I'll treat ye wi' a ride In theäse wheel-barrow here." Zoo I wer blind-like To what he had a-workèn in his mind-like, An' mounted vor a passenger inside; An' comèn to a puddle, perty wide, He tipp'd me in, a-grinnèn back behind-like. Zoo when a man do come to me so thick-like, An' sheäke my hand, where woonce he pass'd me by, An' tell me he would do me this or that, I can't help thinkèn o' the big bwoy's trick-like. An' then, vor all I can but wag my hat An' thank en, I do veel a little shy.