We won't stay leäte there, I'll be boun'; We'll bring our sheädes off out o' town A mile, avore the zun is down, If he's a sheenèn clear. Zoo when your work is all a-done, Your mother can't but let ye run An' zee a little o' the fun, There's nothèn there to fear.
When in happy times we met, Then by look an' deed I show'd, How my love wer all a-zet In the smiles that she bestow'd. She mid have, o' left an' right, Maïdens feäirest to the zight; I'd a-chose among em still, Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
She wer feäirer, by her cows In her work-day frock a-drest, Than the rest wi' scornvul brows All a-flantèn in their best. Gaÿ did seem, at feäst or feäir, Zights that I had her to sheäre; Gaÿ would be my own heart still, But vor Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
Jeäne--a-checkèn ov her love-- Leän'd to woone that, as she guess'd, Stood in worldly wealth above Me she know'd she lik'd the best. He wer wild, an' soon run drough All that he'd a-come into, Heartlessly a-treatèn ill Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
Oh! poor Jenny! thou'st a tore Hopèn love vrom my poor heart, Losèn vrom thy own small store, All the better, sweeter peärt. Hearts a-slighted must vorseäke Slighters, though a-doom'd to break; I must scorn, but love thee still, Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
Oh! if ever thy soft eyes Could ha' turn'd vrom outward show, To a lover born to rise When a higher woone wer low; If thy love, when zoo a-tried, Could ha' stood ageän thy pride, How should I ha' lov'd thee still, Pretty Jeäne o' Grenley Mill.
While now upon the win' do zwell The church-bells' evenèn peal, O, Along the bottom, who can tell How touch'd my heart do veel, O. To hear ageän, as woonce they rung In holidays when I wer young, Wi' merry sound A-ringèn round, The bells ov Alderburnham.
Vor when they rung their gaÿest peals O' zome sweet day o' rest, O, We all did ramble drough the viels, A-dress'd in all our best, O; An' at the bridge or roarèn weir, Or in the wood, or in the gleäre Ov open ground, Did hear ring round The bells ov Alderburnham.
They bells, that now do ring above The young brides at church-door, O, Woonce rung to bless their mother's love, When they were brides avore, O. An' sons in tow'r do still ring on The merry peals o' fathers gone, Noo mwore to sound, Or hear ring round, The bells ov Alderburnham.