AS autumn pour'd her teern o' good,
And woe had ceased to wail,
Ah wander'd forth hard by a woode,
Upon the banks o' Swale.
And there ah spied a lovely nymph
Yan that neean could but hail,
Ah sed, "Sweet lass, come take e trip
Alang the banks o' Swale."
Wi' looks as sweet as angels wear,
She soon was in the vale,