But aw've a mother ommust blind,
What mud become o' her?
Tha knows shoo cared for me, when waik
An' helpless ivery limb,
Aw'm feeard 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.