A claad hings ovver me, do what aw con
Fresh troubles spring.
Aw wish aw could, like thee, fly far away,
Aw'd leave mi cares an be a burd to-day.
Mi heart war once as full o' joy as thine,
But nah it's sad;
Aw thowt all th' happiness i'th' world wor mine,
Sich faith aw had;—
But he who promised aw should be his wife
Has robb'd me o' mi ivery joy i' life.