An' lost that lass I loved th' best
Throo fear shoo'd say me nay.
Aw long'd to claim her for, &c.,
Aw saunter'd raand her cot at morn,
An' oft i'th' dark o'th' neet;
Aw've knelt mi daan i'th loin to find
Prints ov her tiny feet:
An' under th' window, like a thief,
Aw've crept to hear her spaik,
An' then aw've hurried home agean