Aw long'd to claim her for mi own,
But nah mi love is crost;
An aw mun wander on alooan,
An' mourn for her aw've lost.
Aw couldn't ax her to be mine,
Wi' poverty at th' door:
Aw niver thowt breet een could shine
Wi' love for one so poor;
But nah ther's summat i' mi breast,
Tells me aw miss'd mi way: