So gaÿ's above the finest park,
An' day do sheäde my trees as true
As any steätely avenue;
An' show'ry clouds o' Spring do pass
To shed their raïn on my young grass,
An' aïr do blow the whole day long,
To bring me breath, an' teäke my zong,
An' I do miss noo needvul boon
A-gi'ed to other meäds in June.
An' when the bloomèn rwose do ride