A river, too, clooäse by tha trees,
Its stickle coose on slid,
Whaur yells an trout an wither fish
Mid ôtentimes be zid.
Tha rooks voun this a pleasant place—
A whim ther young ta rear;
An I a ôten pleas'd a bin
Ta wâtch 'em droo tha year.
'Tis on tha dâ o' Valentine
Or there or thereabout,
Tha rooks da vast begin ta build,
An cawin, make a rout.
Bit aw! when May's a come, ta zee
Ther young tha gunner's shut
Vor SPOORT, an bin, as zum da zâ,
(Naw readship in't I put)
That nif thâ did'n shut tha, rooks
Thâ'd zoon desert tha trees!
Wise vawk! Thic reason vor ther SPOORT
Gee thâ mid nif thâ please!
Still zeng I o' tha Rookery,
Vor years it war tha pride
Of all thâ place, bit 'twor ta I
A zumthin moor bezide.
A hired tha Rooks avaur I upp'd;
I hired 'em droo tha dâ;
I hired ther young while gittin flush
An ginnin jist ta câ.
I hired 'em when my mother gid
Er lessins kind ta I,
In jitch a wâ when I war young,
That I war fit ta cry.
I hired 'em at tha cottage door,
When mornin, in tha spreng,
Wâk'd vooäth in youth an beauty too,
An birds beginn'd ta zeng.
I hired 'em in tha winter-time
When, roustin vur awâ,
Thâ visited tha Rookery
A whiverin by dâ.