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
Vrom the skylark’s nest ov aggs;
While the peewit wheel’d around
Wi’ his cry up over head,
Or he sped, though a-limpen, o’er the ground.
There we heaerd the whickr’en meaere
Wi’ her vaice a-quiv’ren high;
Where the cow did loudly bleaere
By the donkey’s vallen cry.
While a-stoopen man did zwing
His bright hook at vuzz or ling
Free o’ fear, wi’ wellglov’d hands,
O’ the prickly vuzz he vell’d,
Then sweet-smell’d as it died in faggot bands.
When the hayward drove the stock
In a herd to zome oone pleaece,
Thither vo’k begun to vlock,
Each to own his beaestes feaece.
While the geese, bezide the stream,
Zent vrom gapen bills a scream,
An’ the cattle then avound,
Without right o’ greaezen there,
Went to bleaere bray or whicker in the pound.