When mornèn winds, a-blowèn high, Do zweep the clouds vrom all the sky, An' laurel-leaves do glitter bright, The while the newly broken light Do brighten up, avore our view, The vields wi' green, an' hills wi' blue; What then can highten to my eyes The cheerful feäce ov e'th an' skies, But Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill, My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
An' when, at last, the evenèn dews Do now begin to wet our shoes; An' night's a-ridèn to the west, To stop our work, an' gi'e us rest, Oh! let the candle's ruddy gleäre But brighten up her sheenèn heäir; Or else, as she do walk abroad, Let moonlight show, upon the road, My Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill, My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
An' O! mid never tears come on, To wash her feäce's blushes wan, Nor kill her smiles that now do plaÿ Like sparklèn weäves in zunny Maÿ; But mid she still, vor all she's gone Vrom souls she now do smile upon, Show others they can vind woone jaÿ To turn the hardest work to plaÿ. My Meäry's smile, o' Morey's Mill, My rwose o' Mowy Lea.
The zun can zink, the stars mid rise, An' woods be green to sheenèn skies; The cock mid crow to mornèn light, An' workvo'k zing to vallèn night; The birds mid whissle on the spraÿ, An' childern leäp in merry plaÿ, But our's is now a lifeless pleäce, Vor we've a-lost a smilèn feäce-- Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood, Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.
The dog that woonce wer glad to bear Her fondlèn vingers down his heäir, Do leän his head ageän the vloor, To watch, wi' heavy eyes, the door; An' men she zent so happy hwome O' Zadurdays, do seem to come To door, wi' downcast hearts, to miss Wi' smiles below the clematis, Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood, Vor she's a-woo'd an' wedded.
When they do draw the evenèn blind, An' when the evenèn light's a-tin'd, The cheerless vier do drow a gleäre O' light ageän her empty chair; An' wordless gaps do now meäke thin Their talk where woonce her vaïce come in. Zoo lwonesome is her empty pleäce, An' blest the house that ha' the feäce O' Meäry Meäd, o' merry mood, Now she's a-woo'd and wedded.
The day she left her father's he'th, Though sad, wer kept a day o' me'th, An' dry-wheel'd waggons' empty beds Wer left 'ithin the tree-screen'd sheds; An' all the hosses, at their eäse, Went snortèn up the flow'ry leäse, But woone, the smartest for the roäd, That pull'd away the dearest lwoad-- Young Meäry Meäd o' merry mood, That wer a-woo'd an' wedded.