An' oh! when other years do come, An' zettèn zuns, wi' yollow gleäre, Drough western window-peänes, at hwome, Do light upon my evenèn chair: While day do weäne, an' dew do vall, Be wi' me then, or else in call, As time do vlee, vor sweet's the pleäce Your vaïce an' feäce do meäke vor me.
Ah! you do smile, a-thinkèn light O' my true words, but never mind; Smile on, smile on, but still your flight Would leäve me little jaÿ behind: But let me not be zoo a-tried Wi' you a-lost where I do bide, O Jessie Lee, in any pleäce Your vaïce an' feäce ha' blest vor me.
I'm sure that when a soul's a-brought To this our life ov aïr an' land, Woone mwore's a-mark'd in God's good thought, To help, wi' love, his heart an' hand. An' oh! if there should be in store An angel here vor my poor door, 'Tis Jessie Lee, vor sweet's the pleäce Her vaïce an' feace can meäke vor me.
'Twer where the zun did warm the lewth, An' win' did whiver in the sheäde, The sweet-aïr'd beäns were out in blooth, Down there 'ithin the elem gleäde; A yollow-banded bee did come, An' softly-pitch, wi' hushèn hum, Upon a beän, an' there did sip, Upon a swaÿèn blossom's lip: An' there cried he, "Aye, I can zee, This blossom's all a-zent vor me."
A-jilted up an' down, astride Upon a lofty ho'se a-trot, The meäster then come by wi' pride, To zee the beäns that he'd a-got; An' as he zot upon his ho'se, The ho'se ageän did snort an' toss His high-ear'd head, an' at the zight Ov all the blossom, black an' white: "Ah! ah!" thought he, the seäme's the bee, "Theäse beäns be all a-zent vor me."
Zoo let the worold's riches breed A strife o' claïms, wi' weak and strong, Vor now what cause have I to heed Who's in the right, or in the wrong; Since there do come drough yonder hatch, An' bloom below the house's thatch, The best o' maïdens, an' do own That she is mine, an' mine alwone: Zoo I can zee that love do gi'e The best ov all good gifts to me.
Vor whose be all the crops an' land A-won an' lost, an' bought, an zwold Or whose, a-roll'd vrom hand to hand, The highest money that's a-twold? Vrom man to man a passèn on, 'Tis here to-day, to-morrow gone. But there's a blessèn high above It all--a soul o' stedvast love: Zoo let it vlee, if God do gi'e Sweet Jessie vor a gift to me.