O wild-reaeven west winds; as you do roa… The elems do rock an’ the poplars do ply… An’ weaeve do dreve weaeve in the dark-w… Oh! where do ye rise vrom, an’ where do… O wild-reaeven winds I do wish I could…

The sheaedeless darkness o’ the night Can never blind my mem’ry’s zight; An’ in the storm, my fancy’s eyes Can look upon their own blue skies. The laggen moon mid fail to rise,

When dewy fall’s red leaves do vlee Along the grass below the tree, Or lie in yollow beds a-shook Upon the shallow-water’d brook, Or drove 'ithin a sheaedy nook;

When vu’st the breaken day is red, An’ grass is dewy wet, An’ roun’ the blackberry’s a-spread The spider’s gliss’nen net, Then I do dreve the cows across

Last week, when we’d a haul’d the crops, We went a-nutten out in copse, Wi’ nutten-bags to bring hwome vull, An’ beaky nutten-crooks to pull The bushes down; an’ all o’s wore

We took the apples in last week, An’ got, by night, zome eaechen backs A-stoopen down all day to pick So many up in mawns an’ zacks. An’ there wer Liz so proud an’ prim,

Come, let’s stroll down so vur’s the pou… Avore the sparklen zun is down: The zummer’s gone, an’ days so feaeir As theaese be now a-getten reaere. The night, wi’ mwore than daylight’s she…

When leaezers wi’ their laps o’ corn Noo longer be a-stoopen, An’ in the stubble, all vorlorn, Noo poppies be a-droopen; When theaese young harvest-moon do weaen…

The woaken tree, a-beaet at night By stormy winds wi’ all their spite, Mid toss his lim’s, an’ ply, an’ mwoan, Wi’ unknown struggles all alwone; An’ when the day do show his head,

An’ zoo’s the day wer warm an’ bright, An’ nar a cloud wer up in zight, We wheedled father vor the meaere An’ cart, to goo to Shrodon feaeir. An’ Poll an’ Nan run off up stairs,

An’ after that we met wi’ zome O’ Mans’on vo’k, but jist a-come, An’ had a raffle vor a treat All roun’, o’ gingerbread to eat; An’ Tom meaede leaest, wi’ all his shea…

Come, bring a log o’ cleft wood, Jack, An’ fling en on ageaen the back, An’ zee the outside door is vast,— The win’ do blow a cwoldish blast. Come, so’s! come, pull your chairs in ro…

Guy Faux’s night, dost know, we chaps, A-putten on our woldest traps, Went up the highest o’ the knaps, An’ meaede up such a vier! An’ thou an’ Tom wer all we miss’d,

Good morn t’ye, John. How b’ye? how b’y… Zoo you be gwain to market, I do zee. Why, you be quite a-lwoaded wi’ your gee… Ees, Thomas, ees. Why, I’m a-getten rid ov ev’ry goose

You’ll lose your meaester soon, then, I… He’s gwain to leaeve his farm, as I do… At Mielmas; an’ I be zorry vor’n. What, is he then a little bit behind? O no! at Mielmas his time is up,

How merry, wi’ the cider cup, We kept poor Fanny’s be’th-day up! An’ how our busy tongues did run An’ hands did wag, a-meaeken fun! What playsome anticks zome [=o]'s done!

Last week the Browns ax’d nearly all The naighbours to a randy, An’ left us out o’t, girt an’ small, Vor all we liv’d so handy; An’ zoo I zaid to Dick, “We’ll trudge,

I do seem to zee Grammer as she did use Vor to show us, at Chris’mas, her wedde… An’ her flat spreaden bonnet so big an’… As a girt pewter dish a-turn’d upside do… When we all did draw near

The winter clouds, that long did hide The zun, be all a-blown azide, An’ in the light, noo longer dim, Do sheen the ivy that do clim’ The tower’s zide an’ elem’s stim;

When, leaete o’ nights, above the green By thik wold house, the moon do sheen, A leaedy there, a-hangen low Her head, 's a-walken to an’ fro In robes so white’s the driven snow,

In happy days when I wer young, An’ had noo ho, an’ laugh’d an’ zung, The maid wer merry by her cow, An’ men wer merry wi’ the plough; But never talk’d, at hwome or out

Ov all the housen o’ the pleaece, There’s woone where I do like to call By day or night the best ov all, To zee my Fanny’s smilen feaece; An’ there the steaetely trees do grow,

Ah! naighbour John, since I an’ you Wer youngsters, ev’ry thing is new. My father’s vires wer all o’ logs O’ cleft-wood, down upon the dogs Below our clavy, high, an’ brode

O, I be a carter, wi’ my whip A-smacken loud, as by my zide, Up over hill, an’ down the dip, The heavy lwoad do slowly ride. An’ I do haul in all the crops,

Come down to-morrow night; an’ mind, Don’t leaeve thy fiddle-bag behind; We’ll sheaeke a lag, an’ drink a cup O’ eaele, to keep wold Chris’mas up. An’ let thy sister teaeke thy eaerm,

An’ zoo you didden come athirt, To have zome fun last night: how wer’t? Vor we’d a-work’d wi’ all our might To scour the iron things up bright, An’ brush’d an’ scrubb’d the house all d…

Why, rain or sheen, or blow or snow, I zaid, if I could stand so’s, I’d come, vor all a friend or foe, To sheaeke ye by the hand, so’s; An’ spend, wi’ kinsvo’k near an’ dear,

Ees: now mahogany’s the goo, An’ good wold English woak won’t do. I wish vo’k always mid avvword Hot meals upon a woaken bwoard, As good as thik that took my cup

The rook’s nest do rock on the tree-top Where vew foes can stand; The martin’s is high, an’ is deep In the steep cliff o’ zand. But thou, love, a-sleepen where vootstep…

Meary-Ann wer alwone wi’ her beaeby in… In her house wi’ the trees over head, Vor her husban’ wer out in the night an’… In his business a-tweilen vor bread; An’ she, as the wind in the elems did ro…

O mother, mother! be the teaeties done? Here’s father now a-comen down the track… Hes got his nitch o’ wood upon his back, An’ such a speaeker in en! I’ll be boun… He’s long enough to reach vrom ground

This is a darkish evenen; b’ye a-feaerd O’ zights? Theaese leaene’s a-haunted,… No, I be’nt much a-feaer’d. If vo’k don… To over-reach me while they be alive, I don’t much think the dead wull ha’ the…

O Jenny, don’t sobby! vor I shall be tr… Noo might under heaven shall peaert me v… My heart will be cwold, Jenny, when I d… The zwell o’ thy bosom, thy eyes’ sparkl… My kinsvo’k would fain zee me teaeke vor…

Ah! don’t tell o’ maidens! the woone vor… Is little lik’ too many maidens bezide,— Not branten, nor spitevul, nor wild; she… To think o’ what’s right, an’ a heart to… She’s straight an’ she’s slender, but no…

If I had all the land my zight Can overlook vrom Chalwell hill, Vrom Sherborn left to Blanvord right, Why I could be but happy still. An’ I be happy wi’ my spot

No, no! I ben’t a-runnen down The pretty maiden’s o’ the town, Nor wishen o’m noo harm; But she that I would marry vu’st, To sheaere my good luck or my crust,

Ees; uncle had thik small hwomestead, The leaezes an’ the bits o’ mead, Besides the orcha’d in his prime, An’ copse-wood vor the winter time. His wold black meaere, that draw’d his c…

Ah! ev’ry day mid bring a while O’ eaese vrom all woone’s ceaere an’ twe… The welcome evenen, when ’tis sweet Vor tired friends wi’ weary veet, But litsome hearts o’ love, to meet;

The girt wold waggon uncle had, When I wer up a hardish lad, Did stand, a-screen’d vrom het an’ wet, In zummer at the barken geaete, Below the elems’ spreaeden boughs,

In the common by our hwome There wer freely-open room, Vor our litty veet to roam By the vuzzen out in bloom. That wi’ prickles kept our lags

Oh! no, Poll, no! Since they’ve a-took The common in, our lew wold nook Don’t seem a-bit as used to look When we had runnen room; Girt banks do shut up ev’ry drong,

Oh! when the friends we us’d to know, 'V a-been a-lost vor years; an’ when Zome happy day do come, to show Their feaezen to our eyes ageaen, Do meaeke us look behind, John,

Poor Jenny wer her Robert’s bride Two happy years, an’ then he died; An’ zoo the wold vo’k meaede her come, Vorseaeken, to her maiden hwome. But Jenny’s merry tongue wer dum’;

Ov all the cows, among the rest Wer woone that Nanny lik’d the best; An’ after milken us’d to stan’ A-veeden o’ her, vrom her han’, Wi’ grass or hay; an’ she know’d Ann,

When the warm zummer breeze do blow over… An’ the vlock’s a-spread over the ground… When the vaice o’ the busy wold sheep do… An’ the sheep-bells do tinkle all round; Where noo tree vor a sheaede but the tho…

Don’t try to win a maiden’s heart, To leaeve her in her love,—'tis wrong: ’Tis bitter to her soul to peaert Wi’ woone that is her sweetheart long. A maid’s vu’st love is always strong;

No; mind thy father. When his tongue Is keen, he’s still thy friend, John, Vor wolder vo’k should warn the young How wickedness will end, John; An’ he do know a wicked youth

In church at Grenley woone mid zee A beam vrom wall to wall; a tree That’s longer than the church is wide, An’ zoo woone end o’n’s drough outside,— Not cut off short, but bound all round

When evenen sheaedes o’ trees do hide A body by the hedge’s zide, An’ twitt’ren birds, wi’ playsome flight… Do vlee to roost at comen night, Then I do saunter out o’ zight

When out below the trees, that drow’d Their scraggy lim’s athirt the road, While evenen zuns, a’most a-zet, Gi’ed goolden light, but little het, The merry chaps an’ maidens met,

While zome, a-gwain from pleaece to plea… Do daily meet wi’ zome new feaece, When my day’s work is at an end, Let me zit down at hwome, an’ spend A happy hour wi’ zome wold friend,

When music, in a heart that’s true, Do kindle up wold loves anew, An’ dim wet eyes, in feaeirest lights, Do zee but inward fancy’s zights; When creepen years, wi’ with’ren blights…

Why tidden vields an’ runnen brooks, Nor trees in Spring or fall; An’ tidden woody slopes an’ nooks, Do touch us mwost ov all; An’ tidden ivy that do cling

Why ees, aunt Anne’s a little staid, But kind an’ merry, poor wold maid! If we don’t cut her heart wi’ slights, She’ll zit an’ put our things to rights, Upon a hard day’s work, o’ nights;

A new house! Ees, indeed! a small Straight, upstart thing, that, after all… Do teaeke in only half the groun’ The wold woone did avore 'twer down; Wi’ little windows straight an’ flat,

Ov all the chaps a-burnt so brown By zunny hills an’ hollors, Ov all the whindlen chaps in town Wi’ backs so weak as rollers, There’s narn that’s half so light o’ hea…

We now mid hope vor better cheer, My smilen wife o’ twice vive year. Let others frown, if thou bist near Wi’ hope upon thy brow, Jeaene; Vor I vu’st lov’d thee when thy light

By the brow o’ thik hangen I spent all… In the house that did peep out between The dree woaks, that in winter avworded… An’ in zummer their sheaede to the green… An’ there, as in zummer we play’d at our…

The house where I wer born an’ bred, Did own his woaken door, John, When vu’st he shelter’d father’s head, An’ gramfer’s long avore, John. An’ many a ramblen happy chile,