Sundry Pieces: Jeäne o’ Grenley Mill
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,
Maidens feaeirest to the zight;
I’d a-chose among em still,
Pretty Jeaene o’ Grenley Mill.
She wer feaeirer, by her cows
In her work-day frock a-drest,
Than the rest wi’ scornvul brows
All a-flanten in their best.
Gay did seem, at feaest or feaeir,
Zights that I had her to sheaere;
Gay would be my own heart still,
But vor Jeaene o’ Grenley Mill.
Jeaene—a-checken ov her love—
Leaen’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-treaten ill
Pretty Jeaene o’ Grenley Mill.
Oh! poor Jenny! thou’st a tore
Hopen love vrom my poor heart,
Losen vrom thy own small store,
All the better, sweeter peaert.
Hearts a-slighted must vorseaeke
Slighters, though a-doom’d to break;
I must scorn, but love thee still,
Pretty Jeaene 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 ageaen thy pride,
How should I ha’ lov’d thee still,
Pretty Jeaene o’ Grenley Mill.
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