The nightingales so sweetly warble,
Their notes through hill and dale do ring;
But oh! the heart in the breast is riven
Whene’er our peasant boys do sing!
Here is a specimen from Schandein’s poems in the Westrich dialect:
“So lewe wul, ehr liewe Alte,
Do i’s mei’ Hann, Glick uf die Rês!
De’ liewe Herrgott losze walte,
Dann Er es wul am beschte wêsz;
Un machen euch kê’ Gram und Sorje