. . .eeard her poor owd heart ud braik
If aw'd to leave her, Jim.

Aw like to hear thee talk o' th' trees
'At tower up to th' sky,
An' th' burds 'at flutterin i'th' breeze,
Lie glitterin' jewels fly.

Woll th' music of a shepherd's reed
May gently float along,
Lendin its tender notes to lead
Some fair maid's simple song;

An' flaars 'at grow o' ivery side,
Such as we niver see;
But here at hooam, at ivery stride,
There's flaars for thee an' me.

Aw care net for ther suns soa breet,
Nor warblin melody;
Th' clink o' thi clogs o' th' flags at neet
Saands sweeter, lad, to me.

An' tho' aw wear a gingham gaan,
A claat is noa disgrace;
Tha'll niver find a heart moor warm
Beat under silk or lace.

Then settle daan, tak my advice,
Give up this wish to rooam!
An' if tha luks, tha'll find . . . Read More