When evenèn sheädes o' trees do hide A body by the hedge's zide, An' twitt'rèn birds, wi' plaÿsome flight, Do vlee to roost at comèn night, Then I do saunter out o' zight In orcha'd, where the pleäce woonce rung Wi' laughs a-laugh'd an' zongs a-zung By vaïces that be gone.
There's still the tree that bore our swing, An' others where the birds did zing; But long-leav'd docks do overgrow The groun' we trampled heäre below, Wi' merry skippèns to an' fro Bezide the banks, where Jim did zit A-plaÿèn o' the clarinit To vaïces that be gone.
How mother, when we us'd to stun Her head wi' all our naïsy fun, Did wish us all a-gone vrom hwome: An' now that zome be dead, an' zome A-gone, an' all the pleäce is dum', How she do wish, wi' useless tears, To have ageän about her ears The vaïces that be gone.
Vor all the maïdens an' the bwoys But I, be marri'd off all woys, Or dead an' gone; but I do bide At hwome, alwone, at mother's zide, An' often, at the evenèn-tide, I still do saunter out, wi' tears, Down drough the orcha'd, where my ears Do miss the vaïces gone.
When out below the trees, that drow'd Their scraggy lim's athirt the road, While evenèn zuns, a'móst a-zet, Gi'ed goolden light, but little het, The merry chaps an' maïdens met, An' look'd to zomebody to neäme Their bit o' fun, a dance or geäme, 'Twer Poll they cluster'd round.
An' after they'd a-had enough O' snappèn tongs, or blind-man's buff, O' winter nights, an' went an' stood Avore the vire o' bleäzen wood, Though there wer maïdens kind an' good, Though there wer maïdens feäir an' tall, 'Twer Poll that wer the queen o'm all, An' Poll they cluster'd round.
An' when the childern used to catch A glimpse o' Poll avore the hatch, The little things did run to meet Their friend wi' skippèn tott'rèn veet An' thought noo other kiss so sweet As hers; an' nwone could vind em out Such geämes to meäke em jump an' shout, As Poll they cluster'd round.
An' now, since she've a-left em, all The pleäce do miss her, girt an' small. In vaïn vor them the zun do sheen Upon the lwonesome rwoad an' green; Their zwing do hang vorgot between The leänen trees, vor they've a-lost The best o' maïdens, to their cost, The maïd they cluster'd round.
While zome, a-gwaïn from pleäce to pleäce, Do daily meet wi' zome new feäce, When my day's work is at an end, Let me zit down at hwome, an' spend A happy hour wi' zome wold friend, An' by my own vire-zide rejaïce In zome wold naïghbour's welcome vaïce, An' looks I know'd avore, John.